By the Moonlight, Beauty Blooms
by WriteYourDreamsTheyWillCome
Summary: Sequel to Under the Love of a Rose.
1. Chapter 1

"Here goes nothing." She set down the wrench on her bathroom floor and stood to turn on the water at the sink. The pipe still dripped underneath. "Seriously?!" Heaving a sigh, she slammed off the water and grabbed the wrench that she'd stolen from Jason's workshop. It couldn't be this hard to fix a leaking pipe.

Locking the wrench around where one piece of plastic pipe joined another and dripped, she leaned back with all her weight. And plopped on her bottom as a loud crack and pop filled the air. A chunk of the pipe nestled in the wrench - still in her hand. Her mouth fell open and she stared at it for a moment. The rest of the pipe stuck out of the wall with one shard quite a bit higher than the other, as if flipping her off for being yanked and twisted the past fifteen minutes.

So much for fixing it herself. With a sigh, she got up. The wall would likely have to be cut out to replace the pipe wherever it joined the next one.

"The meatloaf is done!" Trudy walked in and stopped in surprise. "Pete and Dr. Port know how to fix plumbing like a bee and honey, don'tcha know."

"Don't say a word." She dropped the wrench back in the heavy toolbox. "I thought I could fix it myself. Jason's been holed up in his office since Olivia left this afternoon, and I didn't want to make him do repairs his second day home."

Trudy, ever faithful, didn't laugh or tease. "My lips are sealed like a seal's."

"Thanks." She wiped the back of a hand over her brow. "I'll wash my hands and then get Jason for dinner."

"Don't wash 'em in there." Trudy pointed to the broken sink and smiled.

"Ha ha." She threw the gentle woman a look.

Downstairs, she poked her head in his office where symphony music swept through the room from his phone. "You're still in here? Trudy made meatloaf."

Jason glanced up from his desk, wearing his typical white dress shirt and black pants. The white bandage covering the slowly healing scars on the right half of his face and head still tugged at her heart. After two months, it shouldn't hurt this much to see him bandaged anymore.

His gaze returned to the ledgers spread across the mahogany desk. "I'm not hungry, Emma." His deep baritone held no emotion.

She walked over. "Come. Your pants are a bit loose around your waist since the doctor took you off that high-protein diet to get your skin to heal. You have a bit of hospital pallor, and it's my job to fill you out again." With a smile of encouragement, she wrapped a hand around his wrist.

Without a word, he pulled away and picked up a pen.

Setting a hand on his arm, she searched the left side of his face not hidden by the bandages. "Are you sad about Olivia going home?" The man had taken to Trudy's niece yesterday and had spent meals feeding the toddler rather than dining with anyone. Trudy hadn't had to lift a finger as babysitter.

A simple shrug of his left shoulder came as his only response.

Perhaps it hadn't been purely attachment to the child. Perhaps Olivia had been a means for him to avoid facing the fact that daily life would be different - more difficult - than it had been a couple months ago. It was still his first twenty-four hours home. Maybe he just needed some time.

"Jay, you wouldn't let me be there when you ate in the hospital, and you don't have to let me see at this point in time either. Come sit with me for a few minutes during dinner like you used to, if you won't even eat in the shadows at the other end of the table."

"There is no 'like I used to.'" Rather than anger, sad realization filled his voice. "I didn't used to eat like such a beast that I couldn't be in your presence, or have absolutely no control over when I needed to wipe my mouth. I used to be able to pleasure my wife."

She sat on the edge of his desk, an ache in her chest for how hard this had to be for him. Just after he'd finally started gaining self-confidence in the marriage, the SEALS mission had happened and set him back so far. "Is that why you insisted on feeding Olivia at every meal and slept in the spare bedroom with her last night? To avoid me?"

"I don't avoid you." Then he reached for a bill, as if in an attempt to dismiss the conversation. He spoke quiet and matter of fact. At one time, he would've snapped and snarled to push everyone away, but he seemed so downtrodden now.

"Jason, we talked about this yesterday that I won't touch you in the bedroom until you're ready." How strange it was to not be the one afraid in bed, but it was a role gladly taken if it would help him. "As far as eating, you used to eat in the dark on the other side of the table. I've hardly seen you eat, so I won't really know any different. Even so, I could care less how clean or messy you are - I eat with you because I want your company. And your lip neither disgusts nor phases me; it is what it is. I married you for you, not your lip. Be patient and give yourself time - it's only been two weeks since you lost more of your lip. The speech therapist says you'll adapt more yet." Then she looked down at the ledgers spread across the desk. "I kept up on the bills while you were in the hospital. You're holing up in here to avoid Trudy, Pete, and I."

That had been the wrong thing to say, perhaps making him feel useless that he wasn't even needed for paying bills, because his entire body tensed. Changing the topic would be best. "You know how the pipe in the bathrooms curves under the sink...?"

The man blinked at the sudden change in conversation. "The sink?"

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "How far does that go in the wall before connecting to another pipe?"

His brow furrowed. "It can be a few feet sometimes. Why?"

Lovely. "Just curious. So, if it broke, a hole needs to be cut in the wall?" She nibbled a lip. This might not be good.

"Did you break the sink?" His eyebrow cocked.

Her jaw dropped and she held out her hands. "Why do you assume I broke the sink? Maybe I just want to know how to fix something to be more handy around the house."

"Yes, you're suddenly incredibly interested in plumbing. Show me what you did." He heaved his muscular frame out of the chair.

"It's nothing. Pete can fix it." She set her hands on his chest to stop him. "It's your first full day home. You don't need to do repairs."

He cracked a smile - the first since Olivia had left. "You did something really stupid, didn't you?"

"No!" Propping her hands on her hips, she scowled at him. When his eyebrow rose, her hands dropped. "Maybe. I thought I could fix it!"

"Show me." His large hand rested on the small of her back to urge her along.

In her bathroom, she opened the cabinet under the sink to reveal the damage.

He smiled and picked up the chunk of broken pipe. "What did you do? Bomb it?"

"It was dripping, so I tried to twist it tighter. I leaned back to get a better angle and it broke. We have to tear out the wall, don't we?"

"'We' aren't doing anything." His eye twinkled for the first time in weeks. "You aren't allowed near pipes anymore."

"Har har, that's so funny." She rolled her eyes.

He knelt and inspected the damage. "I can saw off the pipe just below the break and connect a new piece so we don't have to cut into the wall."

"I'm sorry. I thought I could fix it so you wouldn't have to."

The smile still lingered when he stood and set a hand on her back. "It'll take just a few minutes to fix. Ms. Van Hoodie wanted to get groceries tonight, so Stevens can pick up some pipe. I can teach you how to fix it."

"Okay." She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, his heartbeat a soothing rhythm that would never grow old to hear. "It's so good to have you home." Those strong arms cocooned in a safe embrace. "Come eat with me." She leaned back in his arms with a smile.

All the joy left his face. "I'll sit with you while you eat."

Pressing her lips together, she nodded. It would have to be enough for now. "Do you want to eat first? I don't want to eat in front of you while you're hungry."

His tone and expression held no emotion. "It takes a minimum of a thirty minutes to eat now. Your food will be cold before then."

"Are you going to eat with me again sometime? I know it's hard right now and you're trying to adjust, but I don't want things to go back to how they used to be." Wrapping her arms around his middle, she laid her head against his warm chest again.

Silence but it wasn't due to a negative answer - he seemed so lost that he didn't know if he could answer 'yes.'

Straightening, she took his hand and stepped back in encouragement when hesitation colored every line of his face. "Come take me down to supper." He needed reassurance and to feel independent and needed. Coincidentally, those things came so naturally to give him.

"Don't placate me." The growl came out low and irritated, but he offered his arm all the same.

She grinned and linked her arm through his. "I'm not. Even if I was, I like my bear when he growls."

He turned into the hall, offering only his profile and abrasive manner. "Most women have the sense to fear the bear."

"Ah." She nodded and touched a finger to her chin as she looked down at the hallway runner. "But most women don't know what a good protector the bear is or how cuddly he can be."

The man offered a sideways, gruff look.

A smile spread across her lips, and she stepped in front of him near the top of the stairs. She pecked a kiss on his cheek. His scaly armor would've left her cowering a year or two ago, but it failed to cause hesitation anymore. "I love you." Then she tugged him down the stairs to dinner.

At the dining table illuminated only by a single candle, he pulled out her chair and sat to her right once she settled. Trudy had left place settings at both spots. Steaming meatloaf, creamy mashed potatoes, and crisp green beans with almonds filled the plates.

She glanced at him. All his favorite foods might be enough to entice him to not wait to eat. After saying grace with him, she picked up her fork. He seemed determined to not acknowledge the food and focused on her. The aromas would do the coaxing; she just had to make him relax. "With all the bussle, I don't think I mentioned that the sex trafficking case with the FBI closed yesterday."

Tension melted from his shoulders, either from not talking about his injury or from the case he hated being over. "Good. The maniacs you were hunting have been caught?"

With a nod, she popped a piece of meatloaf in her mouth...and tried not to gag on this disgusting goo that he liked so much. She took a drink to slide it down without having to chew much. "We actually got them and what we think is a quarter of the network in South America."

His eyebrow rose. "Impressive. I'm surprised at how organized you were working in the hospital with all the distractions."

The fork traveling to her mouth halted, unsure what to make of that comment...or maybe compliment. "I tried to work mostly when you napped and in the evenings. I used all my PTO - "

"I know you had to drain your PTO on account of me and used Family Leave too. I appreciate it, but it wasn't necessary." That warm blue eye locked on her for a moment before releasing.

She blinked. This had taken conversation a strange turn. "Why wasn't it necessary? You were in ICU and then the burn unit. You would've stayed with me in the hospital if I'd been in there."

He nodded and looked down at his full plate. "I should be grateful that you wanted to stay. Forgive me, I'm not the best companion this evening." He stood. "I shall bid you good evening." Then he took her hand and grazed a kiss over her knuckles.

When his footsteps reached the doorway, she found her voice and spoke not in blame but in confusion. "Why can't you stomach me since coming home yesterday?" His footsteps halted. She turned and looked him in the eye. He wanted to shut down and push her away, but she'd be damned if things would regress back to that.

"I wish to be with you every moment. But I will not make you my nurse and speech therapy practice partner and psychologist... You need a break from me after two months of intense caregiving as much as I need to figure out how to stand on my own feet again. You're the most beautiful, precious thing in the world to me, whom I used to have trouble not desiring. Now there's nothing..."

Depression and low self-esteem had escaped him in the hospital, but they threatened now. Her lips pressed together. The man proved to be so damn stubborn. "Sit down and eat, Jason. We will sleep in the same bed tonight, and I will not, not cuddle up to you. Giving you space will only give you time to pull away and fall back into old habits. We are partners in this, and I refuse to let you segregate yourself."

"Partners? What the hell is there that you can do about this?" He threw up his arms, his eye dancing with rage in the candlelight. "I can't eat or talk without this goddamn bandage. I can't even desire anymore when seeing my new bride naked in the shower!"

"So you're just going to give up? You're a fighter, Jason. All I'm asking is that you try." It took every ounce of self-control to remain calm and not shake some sense into him.

His finger jabbed toward the floor and he took an angry step closer. All of the frustration and heartache and grief snowballed inside. The veins in his neck bulged as he finally exploded and roared, "I have been trying for two months and it's left everything worse than before!" The words echoed throughout the house.

She remained silent and calm, giving him this chance to explode all of the emotions he'd kept bottled up.

His chest heaved from the outburst, every line of his face so overwhelmed and stressed. When he buried his face in his hands, she stood to go to him. He lifted his head and held out a hand, his heart so obviously aching. "Don't."

Her heart stopped in it's tracks as much as her feet. So many emotions battled in him that he needed time alone - a safe place to lose control without worrying who saw. When he turned and headed upstairs, it took every ounce of strength to not go after him.

* * *

He reclined on the bed with his ankles crossed and read a book when she peeked in his doorway a half hour later. His white dress shirt and black slacks had been replaced by a t-shirt and jeans. It'd been a long time since he'd worn anything so informal at home. It spoke volumes about his confidence level too. Even his manner seemed so quiet and withdrawn.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and set his warm plate of food on his other side. His eye stopped skimming across the page, but he didn't look up. It hurt seeing him like this. Something inside him had shut down, as if tired from this battle he'd already been fighting for five years and had so very many, harder years left. "I left it in the oven to stay warm." No reaction. "Jay, what can I do? And don't tell me nothing. Even if sitting next to you and neither of us saying a word all day will help, it's something." She kept her tone soft and patient, aching to do anything to ease the weight of some of this cross he bore.

That vivid blue eye had become more and more gray since the lip surgery. He stared at the book with such sadness and gave a slow shake of his head, as if even more lost than her.

"Will you eat? Either in here or downstairs? You can eat by yourself, if you want." She set a hand on his leg.

He glanced at the plate like it was something to be dreaded.

"You like that food, right?"

His head tilted in a slight nod.

Having to eat was what he dreaded. His missing teeth only compounded the difficulty of losing more of his lip. If he had as much trouble as she suspected, he'd need to eat at a table. And he needed someone to show him the monster was just a mouse.

She picked up his plate and held out a hand, protectiveness for him swelling in her chest. "Come, Jay. You can eat in the kitchen where it'll feel homier." And also where he could have access to the sink to eat over, if needed. "I'll tell Trudy and Pete to leave you in peace, and I'll be in my bathroom cleaning out under the sink so the pipe can be fixed." She took his hand, the dear man needing a bit of a push to leave the bedroom.

* * *

Each minute longer he remained downstairs wound a tighter knot in her stomach. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand across the room from the bathroom. Thirty-four minutes.

It wasn't fair that he suffered so much. And for nothing - he'd gone back into that fire to find a little girl who'd burned so much that a body hadn't been found and his big brother/father figure had gone in after him and died. The scars had to remind Jason every day of what he'd lost, much less the physical hardship he carried too. Another minute passed and she stood to go check on him.

He stepped around the corner into the bathroom.

"Oh!" She stopped short, almost running into him, and smiled. "That was quick."

The quiet expression on his face didn't change. "You're a bad liar."

Pecking a kiss on his cheek, she took his hands and grinned, letting his comment fall on deaf ears. "Let's get out of the house for a bit and go for a walk. You haven't been outside for months. The sun just set and it's a warm night."

His head cocked just a bit, as if intrigued by something.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She linked her arm through his and wandered the side of the road at a slow pace. A cool breeze from the snowy mountains washed away the heat of the summer day. Stars twinkled in the sky. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, she sighed and looked up. "I don't tire of the stars here. They were so dim and not as many in the city. And the moon is so big and bright out here."

"You don't miss the bustle of Chicagoland?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't ever move back after being out here. It's so open and beautiful with the mountains." Then she leaned her head against his shoulder, a warm, fuzzy feeling growing inside being with him under the stars. "Do you like it?"

"I like wherever you are." Intimacy rather than lust deepened his voice to a husky quality.

Butterflies flitted inside. It had been so long since having a romantic evening with him - one outside of the hospital. He wasn't ready to make love, but he seemed to be starving for the emotional connection of intimacy like this and yet afraid of it. She laid her other hand on his arm to be closer. "I know you're having a hard time right now, but don't forget that I'm right here. I need you to not be shy about telling me if I should be smothering or am too smothering or pushing too hard...I wish I just knew what to give you. It's not for lack of wanting."

"I know, Emma." He set a hand over hers. That strong brow furrowed as he stared at the ground, and he remained silent for several more steps. "I wasn't ready for things to be harder than before." The words whispered from his lips. "The past twenty-four hours have been such a rollercoaster. One minute I'm ecstatic to be home, the next I want to rip down the house - literally. Then the next I want you to hold my hand like a child and then, at the flip of a switch, I can't stand to have you see me. I don't even know what I want, Emma." Sadness vibrated from him.

"Give yourself time. I notice no difference in your speech when you have the bandages on, and it's greatly improved without the bandage. Personally, I would say you don't need the speech therapist anymore, and I'm not just saying that." She glanced up at his profile, his eye remaining on the road like he absorbed her words. "The more you eat and kiss, the more you'll adapt to your lip. And yes, that is a way of saying I want to be kissed more." She held back a smile.

The corner of his mouth curled up a hint.

"As for the bedroom, once these other things begin to iron out, that will resolve itself. I expect it will take several weeks for us to find our footing with everything and probably a few weeks after that until you have any interest in making love. So, if I am not putting pressure on you, I have no idea why you're putting pressure on you. That's all there is to it, so stop stressing about it."

A soft snort escaped him. "You make it sound so easy."

"Did I? I simply thought it sounded doable," she said, stealing Nana's wise phrase.

He pulled his arm away to wrap it around her waist and continued on in silence for the remainder of the walk. Through the silence, he spoke so intimately - more than words could ever say and more than he had in weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

The minutes dragged past. She nestled under the blankets in her bed and waited. He would come because he had promised, although not in as many words - the way he had bowed over her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her fingers with a tender look after the walk had spoken the promise. He hadn't said 'goodnight' either when escorting her to her bedroom door. Perhaps time and slow coaxing would give him the confidence he seemed to struggle to find right now. Only moonlight poured in the room, offering him the cloak of shadows if he wanted.

The doorknob turned and her heart beat faster. If he came on his own to sleep in the same bed, it would show that he felt so much safer than he thought, that the monster wasn't quite as big as he believed. She held her breath.

He stepped into the room in his blue robe and slippers and closed the door behind himself. "The hearing device ran out of battery. I didn't realize the other wasn't plugged in the charger." There he stood near the door, as if unsure he'd be accepted. He came so vulnerable, taking a leap of faith when his instincts clearly told him to run.

Her heart raced. This was the largest step he'd taken since coming home. Sitting up, she held out a hand, having no need for words tonight anyways to say what lay in her heart.

A slow step brought him closer to the bed, and then another. When she pulled back the sheets on his side as encouragement, he hesitated a moment. Only the moonlight bathed him as he shrugged off his robe and laid it at the foot of the bed. A pajama shirt covered his muscular torso tonight. Then he sat in the bed, pulled up the covers, and stilled, as if tense.

In the hospital he'd asked for her to change the bandages, but she hadn't done it yet today. Reaching around his face, she laid her fingertips against his chin and part of the bandage so he would feel the question.

His eye glinted in the dim light. "Stevens changed it tonight. I won't have you look at night and be frightened."

A scowl furrowed her brow.

"No."

With a sigh, she laid down. When he did too, she moved his arm to rest her head on his shoulder and flung a leg over his. The man fit so perfect, even in his tense state. Then she stroked his chest to make his pounding heart relax. Turning her head, she pressed a kiss to his heart, continuing the slow, lazy caress long into the night until the ghosts finally let him sleep.

* * *

Something wasn't right. She rubbed her eyes and rolled over to cuddle. Jason didn't lie on the other side of the bed. Her eyes fluttered open. A sliver of light glowed through the connecting door. Slipping out of bed, she padded over in her sleeveless summer nightgown, rubbing her arms against the chill of the night mountain air.

Jason sat shirtless in bed reading a book by firelight and looked up when she opened the door wider. He set the book down and reached for the hearing device on the nightstand. After he popped the receiver piece over a molar and the microphone over his ear, he turned with a frown. "Can't you sleep?" He reached for his nightshirt at the floor of the bed.

"No." She reached out a hand and took a step forward before halting herself.

He froze and looked at her in question.

A wall went up each time he put a barrier over his body - a body that seemed to do nothing but give him grief and shame him lately. She bit her lip. Being honest would be the only way to regain his trust. "I don't see and never did see anything wrong with your scars. Your shoulder is no worse than it was... I wish you wouldn't hide from me." When he just held the shirt in his lap, as if contemplating, she stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed. "You let me touch you in the hospital." Her eyes flitted to his shoulder scar that looked dry. "You're neglecting your shoulder."

His eye fell to his lap. "I let you touch what I thought was getting better, not morphing into something more horrific and disgusting than before." Hatred darkened his tone.

She swallowed hard, her heart tearing at those words. He would never come to believe her blindness to his scars, but he would eventually come to accept his new appearance because life would force him to. "So, your plan is to keep me blind for the rest of our marriage?"

His eye snapped to hers, an angry scowl marring his features as his voice rose. "The moment I didn't, I terrified you deeply enough that you were too frightened to let me touch you! I triggered suppressed memories of the rape!" Firelight caught the angry glitter of his eye and his chest heaved as the rage died down.

Remaining calm, she held his glare. "The incident at the Foundation triggered the memories; you don't get credit for that. And even you admitted that teaching me to be afraid of what lay under the mask caused the fear and more flashbacks of Gaston. So why are you trying to teach me there is another monster now?"

He looked away.

"Why do you want me to fear you?" She reached out a hand to touch his arm, but he caught her wrist.

Anger crackled in his eye. "Because you should."

She held his eye. "Because you are?"

He jerked her wrist, pulling so she fell on her back in the bed. Then he climbed on top and captured her wrists on each side of her head, leaning his weight on his hands and knees. His nostrils flared and his chest heaved with power barely controlled. Raw desire lapped in his eye.

She wrapped her legs around his thighs. He needed to be desired.

His jaw muscles clenched and hands tightened on her wrists. Every fiber of him vibrated with lust. Even his impotency looked like it had been cured, at least for the moment.

"Do I look frightened?" She dragged her toes along his thick calf muscle. The intensity of his gaze sped up her heart.

"You'd be wise to - I'm not in the mood to make love." He practically growled the words.

"Good. I'm not in the mood for romance."

His eye narrowed like he expected it to be a bluff. As if coming to a decision, he let go of her hands and pulled off her clothes in the next instant. Then he held her wrists again, hard enough to mean business but gentle enough to not harm. "I want it hard and you don't get to look at me."

Her brow furrowed in confusion, but she nodded. He must mean the blindfold -

He sat back and rolled her onto her stomach. Then his hands locked on her hips and pulled up until she was on her hands and knees.

She frowned and watched his hands stretch hers out to hold the lip of the headboard. Maybe he wanted to be the one underneath. But he had her bottom sticking out. Glancing over her shoulder at him kneeling behind and putting on birth control, she looked down at her odd position. And then her eyes widened in realization. It seemed brazen and forbidden and erotic. Heat rushed between her thighs.

The bed shifted as his knees lined up with hers. A gasp of surprise escaped her when his fingers stroked her throbbing flesh.

"You're already ready for me." It sounded like wonderful torture for him the way he breathed the words.

Then he parted her delicate flesh, going slow and gentle, as if to test that she was fully ready. He withdrew and held her hips between his hands. A hard thrust drove out a cry of intense pleasure unlike she'd ever known.

* * *

Hot water rolled down her skin and steam curled through her bathroom. Her legs still trembled from him draining every ounce of her energy, leaving her as sweaty as him. Heat flooded her cheeks at the memory. The man had been insatiable and had gotten very creative tonight, all the while avoiding face-to-face contact.

He'd struggled to find release once the initial rush of caged lust had passed and his mind had started to get to him again, but her slightly exaggerated moans and pants had seemed to encourage him. Her soaring through the clouds and then guiding his hand down to help tip her over the edge had finally been his undoing...as if her truly desiring him and needing his touch to reach pleasure had broken down the last mental barrier for him to find release.

Climbing out of the shower, she threw on a nightgown and towel dried her hair before stepping into her bedroom where she'd left him. Only, he wasn't there. Firelight from his room still glowed. She stepped in the doorway. "Why are you in your room?" Goosebumps skittered up her arms, but she remained put - he may have left to have some solitude.

He stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace with a book in his lap, seeming unsurprised by the disruption. "I dream about the fire every time I fall asleep. It's been years since I've had nightmares about it, but since coming home I can't stop."

She walked over and sat on the bed, all thoughts fleeing but concern for him. "Does your face hurt? Maybe it's triggering the memories."

"What I can feel just itches from healing now." His eye remained transfixed on the fire, paler than usual from the ghosts that haunted him.

"Do...do I remind you of Carolyn?" Her heart thundered in dread. Maybe some mannerism or comment had thrown him back to the hospital five years ago when the woman had left him, triggering this extreme withdraw into himself the past couple days.

He snorted. "No."

"Is it a replay of what happened, or does something else occur in the dreams?" Ducking her head, she caught his eye.

Grief painted every line of his face. "Charlotte is our daughter. And I can't find her."

Survivor's guilt all over again. "You think she died because you got hurt? You tried - you ran into a burning building so unstable that even firefighters wouldn't go in. You had no gear, no oxygen...Jason, you risked your life." She turned to face him and swallowed hard. "You were hurt so critically that you went into cardiac arrest several times."

His gaze drifted downward, his only reaction to finding out that the medical staff had told her about the criticalness of his condition after the fire. "I had her in my arms," he continued. "I heard the creaking of the ceiling giving away and should've known to duck. If I hadn't lost my bearings, I would've been on the opposite side of the room next to the actual window and we would've made it out. Charles wouldn't have come in after us and died. When I was knocked out, Charlotte probably got scared and crawled into a closet. Charlotte had to have been burned when the plank hit me - she had her little arms around my neck, and I still got burned. It probably burned straight through her arm." Tears shimmered in his eye. "She had to have been in pain and crying and there was no one there to help her - "

"Jason, stop it. You don't know what happened, and you can't go back and change it. Charlotte and Charles wouldn't want you reliving the past." She grabbed the book to set it aside to hold him, but the diagram made her pause. A medical diagram of a pregnant woman filled one page and medical text populated the other side. Her eyes met his.

He brushed at his eye and eased the book from her, setting it on the nightstand. His demeanor changed like he'd needed to let the grief out for a moment but didn't want to discuss it anymore. "We live in the mountains and it's been years since my OB rotation," he grunted. "It's assinine to not brush up." Then he got up and added a log to the already roaring fire.

She looked at his broad back as he stared into the fire with his hands propped on his hips like he often did when lost in thought. "Do you want to talk about the fire?"

"No." He almost cut off her words with the curt reply.

Perhaps talking about it a little at a time would help him get used to opening up about it. He seemed very open about another topic, however. She settled back against the headboard. "I did some reading in the hospital, and a lot of literature says home births are less stressful and - "

"Absolutely not." He spun on his heel and dropped his hands from his hips. "There's too much that can go wrong during birth that can be prevented or managed with a medical team." Although he didn't exactly bark it, his tone left little room for negotiating.

She cocked an eyebrow.

With a sigh, he came back to bed and got in. "It's completely up to you if you want a water birth, epidural, natural birth, or anything else as long as it's on hospital grounds. You can't say 'home birth' to an MD and not expect a fit."

When he laid down, she cuddled up to his side with a smile. "You're going to be one of those husbands who jumps up with the car keys every time I have a twinge while pregnant, aren't you?"

"We live nearly an hour from the hospital," he grumbled.

"And I think you're going to be an overprotective father."

"No." He tucked an arm behind his head. "Our daughter's boyfriends will be interested to see what kinds of military weapons I have. I promise I won't give 'the father speech' before any of them take her out."

A laugh burst out. "You won't have to - you'll scare the hell out of them, and you know it!"

The corner of his mouth twitched in a cocky smirk.

"You're going to be as much work as the kids." She smiled and turned over to present her back to him. "Cuddle me."

The brief moment of banter ceased. His voice held complete seriousness. And abundant shame. "You shouldn't want me to touch you."

"Good luck with that after what we just did." She scooted back against him with a smile.

A very soft chuckle escaped him. As he shifted, so did the bed, and a strong arm draped over her hip.

She pulled his arm around farther and laced fingers with his. "I saw and touched your scars more in the hospital than ever before. You are being silly. The monster is in your head and nowhere else."

"It exists in church and at the store and so many places." He whispered.

"It lives only where you say it can, but it does not exist at home, Jay." She rubbed his arm with her free hand.

"Life is not that simple, Emma."

She rolled over in his arms. "What are you not telling me?"

He only sighed and rolled away. "Stay off the Internet. Good night."

She stared at his broad back, covered again in a pajama shirt.

* * *

She trotted downstairs at half past six the next morning after waking in his empty bed.

Pete sailed to the front door and shook his head at her over his shoulder. "A ticking time bomb." Then he darted out.

With a frown of confusion, she veered for the kitchen.

Jason stood near the sink without the bandage on, glaring at the speech therapist. When she stepped in, he turned to offer only his left profile and stormed toward the door. He squeezed between her and the doorframe rather than walk around her, as if for the sole purpose of keeping the scars out of sight.

Her eyes flew to the therapist when Jason's office door slammed a moment later.

The man sighed, looking none too pleased himself. "He's angrier here than at the hospital, isn't he?"

This therapist had been so good at coaxing Jason out of his shell in the hospital. Something must've transpired this morning. "He's having a hard time adjusting to being home. Why are you here this early? He usually attends Mass on Monday mornings."

The therapist grabbed his bag on the kitchen chair and slung it over his shoulder. "He is paying extra to have the appointments at six o'clock twice a week in the mornings. I have no idea why. Apparently we're done today."

"What happened?" She frowned. Jason had been trying so hard to make fast progress - it wasn't like him to just walk out on a session. Or to skip church. "Maybe I can convince him to come finish - "

The man snorted. "Good luck with that. I'll try again Wednesday."

Maybe Jason just needed a break from it all after being in the hospital for months. "Thank you. I'll talk to him." She walked the therapist to the door and opened it.

A young woman stood on the step with one hand raised to knock and the other held a medical bag. "Oh. Hi, I'm the home nurse."

She blinked. "Let me guess, he has you scheduled early too?"

The nurse smiled and nodded.

The speech therapist just shook his head. "Good luck." Then he left.

"Come in. Let me go talk to him." She left the nurse in the foyer and then barged into his office, swinging the door shut.

He shot up for his chair and turned the scars away, holding a handkerchief to his poor mouth.

"Dear lord, I've seen it for the past two months." She marched over to the front of the desk, giving him privacy to face the window and hide the scars. "The nurse is here. Care to explain why you have them coming this early? And on Mondays?" She usually didn't get up until half past six. The timing of these appointments wasn't a coincidence that the therapist would be gone and the bandage changed by the time she'd get downstairs.

The man threw a look from the corner of his eye.

She leaned her hands on the desk, mustering up patience. "Jason, I am not doing this. Things are not going back to how they were when we met."

His lips pressed together and his chest rose and fell faster as he swallowed hard. But he didn't move and didn't speak. He struggled so much. But, it was like he harbored too much shame to even seek comfort.

Stepping around the desk, she caught his shirt when he tried to turn away. She wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head against his chest, forcing him to take the hug he so desperately needed. He trembled and his heart raced for whatever reason. "I love you." She hugged him tighter when his arm locked around as if he needed every ounce of strength and courage but wouldn't admit it.

He didn't make a sound. The guilt only seemed to magnify. SEAL training had taught him to shut down to get through something hard and served against him right now.

Pushing him to open up had worked in the past, although he'd fought it tooth and nail. It didn't work now, though. "I push you, don't I?"

The man didn't move.

"I love you. I push because I want to make it better for you, to just rip off the bandage and end the pain." She swallowed hard. He was so introverted that he needed to pull into himself in order to heal - just like he'd let her pull away after remembering the second man during the assault with Gaston. It had driven him crazy to give her space, but it been exactly what she'd needed in order to come back to him. "I won't leave, Jay. Come to me in your own time." She pulled back and searched his profile.

Some of the tension left his shoulders, but he remained silent and held the handkerchief to his mouth. He wasn't going to speak without the aid of a bandage.

Letting go of him was the hardest thing she'd done in a long time. She took a step back and bowed her head, searching for the strength to give him space.

The warm tips of his fingers hooked under her chin and tilted up until her eyes met his. That beautiful blue eye dropped to her lips. His head bowed and he lowered the handkerchief.

Her eyes fluttered closed and heart pounded, the sun coming out from behind the clouds a little more with each beat. His lips brushed like the breeze of a butterfly and stole her breath. Then his heat disappeared.

She opened her eyes to an empty room, her heart still pounding in hope. Her fingers drifted to where her lips still burned from his beautiful kiss - his promise to not give up finding her through the darkness. And a smile lightened her heart.

* * *

Walking down the hall to her room with Prince that afternoon, her footsteps slowed. The fragrant perfume of roses filled the air. Odd. The arboretum sat far down a hall in the opposite wing of the house. The scent seemed to come from the bedroom. Cocking her head, she followed the dog into her room. A silent gasp escaped when she stepped inside.

Thick bouquets of red roses with blooms as large as her palms adorned both corners of the fireplace mantle. Nothing else seemed out of place and no note accompanied the beautiful gifts. She leaned in and inhaled the sweet aroma, closing her eyes as warm, gorgeous memories of falling in love with Jason washed up - him leaving roses in her room after the accident, some of the fear of her mysterious rescuer fading after watching him take such gentle care of his roses and even more tender care of her, him giving roses on dates...

He watched - every fiber could sense him nearby. Opening her eyes, she looked in the direction of the connecting bedroom door. Empty. Then she looked out the hall door to the right beyond the roses. The thick drapes in the next hall had been drawn and cloaked it in darkness. The glint of his eye caught the daylight, giving him away where he remained hidden in the shadows around the corner of the adjacent hall. A subtle smile touched his lips before he melted back into the blackness.

She smiled. He may need physical distance to adjust to his new life, but there was something different about him already - something that whispered an emotional distance wouldn't accompany it.

* * *

That evening, she snuggled under the covers of her own bed in the dark. He would come, although likely not stay. But that would be alright. The marriage had taken a couple steps back and yet several steps forward today. Things felt...calm and secure somehow. He hadn't made an appearance again all afternoon, but his presence had been there in the shadows like a guardian angel watching over.

The knob of the connecting door groaned and his heavy footstep creaked the floorboards. "It's me."

The low roll of his baritone awoke the butterflies in her stomach. Rolling onto her side toward the sound of his footsteps approaching, she bit her lip in a shy smile and tucked her hands under her cheek. The sweet man announced himself so as not to frighten her. "I know it's you, Jay." The bed shifted from his weight when he sat on the edge. "You didn't get much work done today."

Silence.

"I sensed you near." Shy delight rose up.

A heavy, warm hand rested on her hip. "Then you're aware of my guilty pleasure in watching you," he purred deep in his chest.

Oh dear heaven, she melted into a puddle. Her heart skipped a beat. She smiled and searched for his face in the darkness. "You aren't going to stay and you aren't going to make love to me., so why did you come?" Sitting up, she set a hand on his arm.

His warm breath stirred strands of her hair against her cheek. "Am I not to find pleasure in my wife's scent or voice or conversation? Only the physical beauty?"

Heat pooled in her belly from the deepness of his baritone spoken soft in the dark. Her cheeks burned and she couldn't hold back the smile. "You try to woo me."

"No, but if I accomplish that along the way, I'll be content." His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

"You are an enigma. Last night you didn't want me to touch you, yet tonight you're almost purring like a kitten."

"Let me come in my own time. There are things I need to come to terms with that can't happen overnight."

"Things that we'll talk about?"

"Not tonight." He leaned forward and brushed a kiss over her brow. "Goodnight, Emma. I love you."

"I love you too." She scooked closer, but he seemed uncertain. "I get to give a goodnight kiss too."

A soft smile touched his lips in the moonlight.

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. A kiss on the lips would be too much for him tonight. Then she whispered in his ear, "It feels safe knowing you're in the shadows watching over me."

He turned his head to whisper against her ear, "I will always watch over you and keep you safe." His warm lips pressed a kiss to hers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Ugh, put an offer on my first house and it's been chaos the past couple weeks! I got behind with reviews too. Thanks, Guests, YazminXD, HunterofLight123, redvixen22, Shadows11, singingsilent, BonapartNumbercrunch, caroltrivilini, and Cloelius Princess!**

* * *

The nightmares had stayed away again last night, but a foggy image swam up of Jason sitting in a chair beside the bed. It must've been a dream. She shook her head and flipped in the desk light as the sunlight faded from her office. Another late night for the first day on a new case.

Her personal cell phone rang on the desk. With a frown, she picked up the blocked phone number. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Emma Port?" An unfamiliar, upbeat male voice carrived over the line.

"May I ask who's calling?" No one had this number besides coworkers and family. It was on the no solicitor's list too.

"David Henry."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" That name didn't ring a bell - not even someone from college or high school.

He named a large newspaper in California. A reporter.

Her stomach dropped.

"I have a few questions about your husband. Is it true that he was recently hospitalized for a flesh-eating bacteria? He was in a house fire as a teenager and got those face burns, right? My source says he lost more of his mouth and the bacteria attacked his face scars too. Does he still have use of his mouth? Can he still speak? Will he be finding a replacement for a CEO at Charlotte's Hope? If - "

Her blood pressure shot up so fast her head pounded. "Mr. Henry, tell your source that it's best to get facts straight. And that it's illegal to go through medical records."

"No one has gone through medical records, Mrs. Port. I'm calling you to get the story straight - "

A deadly calmness swept through, blanketing the anger. "Then let me get it straight for you. If you call my husband or I again, you'll be served a restraining order. If you print anything about him, I will sue you and the paper for slander." A cold, lethal tone ground out. "Touch his medical records or brib information from medical staff, and I will see you in Federal court. Every newspaper has limits as to what it can afford in court fees; I do not and I will not hesitate in making an example of you. Is that straight enough for you, Mr. Henry?"

"Mrs. Port, wouldn't you rather have the truth told than - "

Her hands shook with rage. Jason had suffered this before - it wouldn't happen again. "I would rather the paper have the decency to respect a man as generous as my husband and focus on the good he does to the world. I would rather that you're the wise one who does an exclusive interview painting him for the wonderful man he is rather than be like the rest of the world looking to make a quick buck by selling juicy shit. Good day." Then she slammed the phone down on the desk.

The floor creaked near the doorway. A silhouette slipped out. Jason.

Heaving a curse, she leaned her elbows on the desk and dropped her face in her hands. Jason had heard the conversation. The media must be slurring him again, which must've been why he'd said to stay off the Internet. There'd be no point in going after him - he'd asked for distance and needed time to process it. With a sigh, she punched a slew of numbers into the computer to hopefully get lost in this case for awhile and forget about that terrible call.

* * *

While reading page ten of the file, a strange feeling ran through. Someone watched. Lifting her gaze, she searched the blackness at the far end of the long room. It must be Jason. Her heart beat faster in anticipation. "You've been gone all day."

"I've been home," his deep voice answered from the darkness.

But he hadn't been near, except during that phone call. She bit her lip. It'd been lonely without him.

"You stayed in here all day with all the windows pouring in sunlight." He explained his reasoning, as if reading her thoughts.

Raising her chin, she cocked an eyebrow. "You aren't even going to let me see the bandage anymore?"

"The nurse removed it yesterday. It's healed enough that the bandage will cause more harm than good."

"Oh." She smiled. "I hear no difference in your speech." Perhaps the therapy had begun to help or he'd started to adapt.

"Because I have a bandage serving as my lip." A note of irritation colored his voice.

Best to let that drop for now. "You heard the phone call."

"That you handled well."

"They disgust me." She dropped her weight back in the chair.

Silence for a moment. "And do I?" No emotion came with the words.

"I will not dignify that with a reply because you know you do not. Besides, how could I anxiously wait all day for nightfall for you to pleasure me if you disgust me." She turned off the desk light, pitching the room into darkness. Her body hummed even at the sound of his voice.

"Is that an invitation, my dear?" A note of amusement wove through the words.

Heat curled in her belly. "I'm in the middle of my cycle. You of all people know that and are taking advantage of hormones."

A soft chuckle and footsteps approached. "I was not aware of how raging these hormones can be but am willing to whet my wife's appetite." His large hand caught hers and he pulled her to her feet, bringing her against his hard chest. "You enjoyed last night," he whispered against her lips without kissing.

Her toes curled and knees grew weak. "Yes," she breathed. It was still too soon for him to make love - he needed raw passion a little longer. The man didn't seem to realize that even in the frenzy of physical pleasure, he still whispered words of love in her ear.

He guided her hand down to brush against his need. "As frigid as a monk and then your desire does this to me. The fact that you do not hold back from my touch, that you want me even when they seek to ruin me..."

Heat flooded her cheeks. If he felt desired, his impotency issue would fade until one day it would vanish. His fragile need started to fade, so she stroked. "Take me on the desk." She whispered the bold words.

The man certainly reacted. Then his touch and heat disappeared. The door lock clicked and his voice came from across the room. "Let me see your beauty."

She hesitated for a moment. He'd remain in the shadows and watch...with his clothes on. Swallowing hard, she shoved away the horrible memory of Gaston threatening to surface. "No." She took a step back as the insecurities tried to breathe back to life. "One watched and remained clothed while the other ripped off my..." She couldn't even finish the sentence as she wrapped her arms around herself, all of the desire dying.

"Forgive me, I didn't even think about that." His heat returned and hands ran down her arms, pulling them open and drawing her into the safety of his embrace.

At the flip of a switch, he went from the pursuer to her gentle protector. She wrapped her arms around him, the demons evaporating at just the touch of his hand. "If it's in the dark, I get to touch you." It would keep her mind connected to him and keep the demons at bay.

"Whatever makes you feel safe." He agreed in a heartbeat and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Come. You didn't have dinner." Without waiting for a reply, like he knew she needed to change the topic, he wrapped an arm around her waist and led the way across the dark room.

When he continued moving through the foyer and into the kitchen without even the glow of moonlight flooding through the windows, she frowned. Pitch blackness blanketed everything and yet he maneuvered like he could see it all. "Can you see in the dark?"

A smile lightened his tone as he let go of her hand and dishes clanked. "Am I a human evolution? No. Plenty of blind people move about their homes without any aid."

She frowned as he opened the fridge, releasing a soft glow that illuminated his left profile. "You moved about in the dark for so many years that you know your way around by heart."

He closed the door, snuffing out all light again. The microwave door popped and closed and the keypad beeped as he punched in one minute. Then the food started cooking.

Stepping up behind him, she splayed her hands over the heavy muscling across his shoulder blades. Every inch of him stilled. Pressing in with the pads of her hands, she massaged out some tension. "I love moments like this," she whispered, the words floating into the air. "Moments when it's just me and you and nothing else in the world."

Without a word, he spun in her arms and crushed his mouth down on hers. His heart galloped under her hand on his chest as he pressed her back against the counter and cradled her face in his hands. A hot tongue dove past her lips and stroked with intense desire. Those lips pulled away just as suddenly and he swept her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders to hold on as his long, determined steps ate up the distance to the bedroom.

"But the food."

"I'll get you more." He didn't sound the least worried about food at the moment.

In his pitch black room, he kicked the door shut and set her down, his mouth crushing again as he pulled her shirt off.

She unbuttoned his, as frantic as him to put out the raging fire.

His kisses proved harder to maneuver, with the bandage covering a bit more of his mouth than before. He had a bit less control of his mouth, and he clearly struggled to find the rhythm that would accommodate his injury. Those beautiful hands slowed in unbuttoning her pants, as if losing confidence.

Tilting her head more, she cupped his left cheek and pressed her body against his bare chest. His desire against her belly began to fade. "I want you. Make love to me," she whispered against his lips.

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled his head back. "I can't." His body heat faded as he stepped back. Embarrassment compounded the self-consciousness, killing his arousal.

The best thing to do for him now would be to leave him alone rather than push. "I'm disoriented. Will you show me to the kitchen?"

"Forgive me, Emma - "

"Hush. There is nothing to be forgiven. In time, things will get better, Jay." Her shirt pressed into her hand.

His clothes russeled for a moment and then he took her hand and led the way. Downstairs, he set her hand on the kitchen lightswitch around the corner.

When she turned it on and looked to the left to him, he was gone. His faint silhouette stood far back near the stairs, away from the light. Tears burned at seeing him so trapped and alone. "Do not forget that I saw and touched when it was raw and bloody. And I did not flinch or hesitate. Do not impose conditional love that is not there."

"If I thought it was conditional, I wouldn't even attempt to touch you." His voice flowed quiet and sad through the darkness before he fell silent for several heartbeats.

"What is it, Jay?" She spoke soft and gentle and flicked off the light. Maybe he would feel safer in the arms of darkness and come closer.

"I can't bear the shame I've caused you," he whispered.

Her brow snapped together. "You have never caused me shame and won't. Why would you say such a thing?"

"Forgive me, Emma..."

Walking in the direction of his voice, she scowled that he would blame himself for this nonsense.

His footsteps ascended the steps.

"Why did you say to stay off the Internet?" She held her breath.

The echo of his steps ceased and his tone carried quiet and subdued through the blackness. "You already know why." Then his steps faded away.

* * *

She hung up the phone with Andy and got up from her desk the next day. Jason couldn't be found in daylight hours. He seemed to move from room to room like a ghost without ever getting caught. Maybe he'd appear in the shadows during daytime, though. Tapping a finger to her lips, she frowned. Searching through the house for him might catch his eye and he'd follow. Upstairs in the hall with curtains closed would make it quite dark - the perfect spot to draw him out.

Wandering the first floor and finding no sign of him, she headed up the stairs to search the bedrooms. Halfway up the stairs, however, his gaze burned her back. Turning and scanning the foyer, she raised her voice. "Jay?" Nothing. Perhaps the shadows here didn't shield him enough that he felt safe answering.

So she continued upstairs and down the deep East Wing, drawing all the curtains shut and closing all the guest room doors to block out light. After closing the last door at the back of the hall, she turned.

"Did you need me?"

She jumped. His deep voice came from the right, in the opposite corner of the hall just a meter or two away. "I didn't even hear you come."

"I saw you wandering the house looking for something. When you called my name and then came up here drawing curtains closed, I didn't suspect you had a sudden inclination for darkness." A note of amusement lightened his tone. "I'm not so certain that we should make love in a hallway with Stevens and Ms. Van Hoodie home."

An embarrassed flush swept up. "Hush. I wasn't looking for an afternoon rendezvous. I wanted to talk to you. Andy called and she's going to be out this way tomorrow for a business meeting. She asked to come tomorrow night for a visit."

Silence.

"I would say she stays at a hotel. You know how nosey she is. You don't need to be afraid to wander your own home - "

"Would you like her here?"

She blinked. "It's Andy. As in my nosey cousin who has no sense of decorum."

"I know who. This is your home and you have a right to bring in family."

He didn't seem to understand. "Jay, if she knows you're here, she might insist on talking to you. Then that'll lead to questions about the dark and - "

"Then tell her I'm away on business. I can get around without being caught for one night." His heat came closer and his fingers trailed down her thigh through the short summer skirt.

"Are you sure? I'll keep her out late and then get her out of here at daylight." She bit her lip.

"I'm sure." His hand dipped under and slid down her undergarment.

Her eyes widened and her voice grew breathless. "Jay, we're in the hall." Her heart pounded in excitement.

"Stevens and Ms. Van Hoodie just left for the market." His voice purred husky and deep as he pressed her back against the hall and hooked her leg around his hip. "Are you opposed to an afternoon rendezvous?" A zipping sound filled the air.

Sweet heaven, his pants. "But the - " Her heart thundered as his belt buckle clinked. All coherent thought fled as he cupped her bottom and pulled her hips closer. Her knees buckled as he joined her body, the intrusion gentle yet demanding.

"But what, sweetheart?" He kissed her neck and gave her body a moment to adjust.

Shaking her head, unable to speak or form a coherent thought, she wrapped her arms around him to hold on tight as he swept her away.

* * *

She giggled the next night at Andy's joke. Andy usually wasn't this funny - tonight, she was hilarious.

"Hey, baby, wanna dance?" An older man stood beside the bar table with his eye on Andy.

Another giggle when Andy gave her a wild look and got up to dance with him.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Jason's cell. He needed to get over here and dance with her. Taking another sip of the fruity drink, she sighed when some of it sloshed on her jeans. The room dipped for a moment from looking down too fast.

He picked up on the third ring. Or maybe the fifth. "Hello, sweetheart."

Damn, he sounded hot answering the phone. "Hey ya, ssssexy."

Silence. "Emma?" He sounded confused.

She giggled. "'Course it'ssss me. I wasss thinkin' 'bout ya - "

"Are you drunk?"

Uh oh. He didn't sound happy. She frowned. "No. I had a vir, virgin fruity thingy." That rhymed. She giggled.

"Put Andy on the phone. Now."

Turning in her chair to get up, she grabbed the table for support as the room spun. Andy danced with some young guys now. "You're bossssy. SShe's dancin' w' sssome guys. You ssshould c'm dance w' me."

"Emma, listen. Stay right there. Are you sitting?"

"How'd you know? Are you here?" She smiled and looked around. Faces blurred. He said something. Another giggle bubbled up. "Are you hidin' in t' ssshadows outssside?" Pushing herself up, she stumbled a step forward to not rock with the moving room.

"No! Emma, I'm at home. I'm coming. Sit down and stay on the phone. Do _not_ go outside." He sounded scared.

She plopped into the chair conveniently behind and blinked hard. "I'll come ffffind ya."

"No. Sit down and don't you dare move."

Her nose scrunched. "Ya sssound like Dad when he'd get ma, mad. You're not my fffather."

His tone softened. "Emma, don't move because then I won't know where you are." A car sounded in the background of his phone. "

Another giggle. "'k. You find mmmme. Ya gonna rip off my clothes and - "

"Emma! Don't say a word," he snapped.

A man turned around at the next table and smiled. "Sure, baby."

"Not you." She wrinkled her nose.

The man got up and leaned his hands down on the table. "Are you lonely? Hot thing like you could use some loving." He smiled.

A faint warning bell went off.

Background noise of a car came over the phone. "Shit. Emma, tell him you're going through early menopause."

"What?"

The man slid a hand down her back.

"Don't touch me." She pushed his hand away, but it took way too much effort and she almost lost her balance. Something didn't seem right, but it was too hard to figure out what.

"Say it!" Jason sounded pissed.

"You're going through early mmmmenopause." Then she giggled.

"No, tell him that _you_ are!" Jason barked.

"I mean, I am." She covered her mouth and giggled. "That would be weird if you were."

The stranger just stared. And then he looked disgusted and sat back at his table.

"Did he leave?"

She frowned. "Yeah. You gonna leave when I have meno-mo...mmmmenopause?"

"Of course not." Then he spoke slow and distinct. "Em, listen to me. You're drunk or drugged and - "

"Your aaaaccent comesss out when you talk like that." She giggled. "You're sssso adorable."

"Emma, I'm serious. Do not talk to anyone." The man sounded distressed.

"Okay. Bye."

"No! Emma, stay in the phone."

"Make up your mind. Scotsss are sssso confusing." The room dipped even though she didn't move this time. "Jaaaay? I think I'm gonna throw up."

"Whatever you do, don't pass out. I'm almost there."

Everything else faded out, the sole focus on not throwing up.

A familiar figure raced across the bar years later and Jason's face wearing the mask swam into view. "Come here, love." His arms wrapped around and he scooped her up.

She laid her head against his chest to still the spinning room and churning stomach.

He looked at Andy, who sat at the table again with an anxious look. "Is she drunk or drugged?"

"I thought she could use some losing up. I didn't tell her alcohol was mixed in her drink," Andy mumbled with a sheepish expression.

"Get in the car and don't say a damn word until I'm calm enough to not wring your neck." He practically snarled and then swept outside.

The smell of car exhaust did it. She shoved on his chest and he set her down just in time to heave in the gutter in front of the car.

He didn't say a word as he held back her hair and she held his arm to stay balanced. Then he handed her a handkerchief. "Better?"

A soft grunt and she dabbed at her mouth. "Thisss smellsss like you."

"Because it's mine," he replied in a distracted tone. "Get in the car, love." He helped her climb in the middle of the backseat. Andy sat on her left.

Andy must've opened her mouth because Jason's voice cut through the haze. "You don't get to speak. Jesus Christ, you'd better pray she doesn't need to go to the hospital." Then his tone softened. "Look at me, sweetheart." His fingertips caught under her chin and tilted her head up to meet his eye. "Can you see clearly?"

"Stop mmmovin'." Everything spun faster and faster.

He pressed this thumbs on her palms and her stomach stopped threatening to heave again. "Close your eyes and sleep it off, sweetheart."

She woke up as he set her down in his bathroom and stripped off her clothes and his own. "I don't wannnna shower. Ssso tired." Her eyes fluttered shut. At least the room didn't swim in tidal waves.

"We have to." He pulled her shirt over her head. "You vomited on us in the car."

Her eyes shot open, the simple motion making the room dip enough that she tipped with it to the right against the wall.

He caught her arm and uprighted her to sit again before pulling off her pants.

"I puked on you?" Embarrassment crept up, although a duller sensation than usual.

The man just grunted. "Right before you fainted, sweetheart. Up you go." He tugged her hands and pulled her to her feet.

She collapsed against him, distantly aware of his naked body against hers. "Sorry. I'll wasssh 'em tomorrrrrow."

"It's alright, Em. I've had worse on me." His arm wrapped around, holding her against him as he leaned in and turned on the water.

His face remained out of focus, but the color of his entire face matched his skin tone. "You aren't wearing a mmmask." She smiled and reached up to touch his face. Her hand went straight through the air and landed on his shoulder. So she laid her head on his chest. "You're so beautiful."

A gentle chuckle bounced his chest. "You can't see me, can you? I think you're three more sheets to the wind than I've ever been. Alright, take a step in, love." He walked backwards into the shower, forcing her to straighten as his arms held tight.

She stumbled in against his chest, tilting her head back to look up at him. "I love your musc - , muscles. You're so hard and strong." The man started sudsing her up, as if not paying attention. "I love it when you climb on me in bed." She stroked his broad shoulders as he leaned around to wash her back. "You're so sexy and powerf, powerful. I feel so little next to you." Then she kissed his wet chest when he straightened. "I dreamed of a big man protect me after him." Her hands skimmed down the hills of his wet abs and his trim hips to his backside. "I love your bum."

He laughed, the first acknowledgement of hearing her words. "Bum? I'd think you're English. You are so incredibly drunk."

"Nuh uh." She scowled and blinked hard when the world spun as he turned them so she was under the water.

"No, you're just completely relying on me to hold you up."

"I'm not drunk. Your words sound the same without the mask."

"Ha!" He barked a laugh. "That's how drunk you are. My lisp is quite strong - it almost matches your drunken drawl." The whiteness of a smile flashed.

"See? I don't even notice it." She pushed against his chest to stand straight on her own. The world tilted to the left and he pulled her against him again. Reaching up, she touched his left cheek and frowned. "I'm all tingly."

"Because you're quite drunk. If it wasn't for you holding somewhat coherent conversation, I'd say you need to go to the hospital. How much did you drink?"

She let go of him and tipped against his chest. He held tight as she held her hands apart to show him.

"That's taller than any glass I've ever seen, Emma."

Squinting, she bit her lip and concentrated hard. Her hands kept moving with the rocking of the house. "Why did you put me on a boat? It's too hard to walk."

"My apologies. I'll put you to bed and tell the captain to slow down."

Dropping her hands, she held his biceps and tried to make his blurry face come into view.

He lathered her hair with one hand, his other wrapped around her waist tight.

She slid a hand down between and smiled up at him. "You gonna make love to me?" Then she gave a playful squeeze.

A yelp and he grabbed her hand and pulled it up. "Definitely not now." His voice sounded a bit higher than normal. He cleared his throat.

Tears burned. "You don't want me?"

"Love, you're not entirely aware of what's going on." His gentle words soothed the hurt. "I promise I'll make love to you if you're feeling better tomorrow."

Laying her head on his chest while he rinsed her hair. "You should be bangin' me, but you're washin' puke off me." She closed her eyes and sighed. "You're so sweet. Know what? I dreamed up a man who would love me so much even after everything he did."

His hand slowed massaging the soap from her hair.

"I thought no real person could love me as much as my pretend guy." She sighed, growing so tired in his warm, safe embrace. "But you love me more than him."

His hand stilled and his heart stumbled under her ear.

When he tucked her in bed and climbed in on the other side, she pushed down her blankets. "You gonna make love t' me now?"

"Not tonight, sweetheart." He pulled up her blankets again and then laid down.

Irrational tears welled. "Cuz I puked on you?"

"No, no, love." He pulled her into his arms. "Because you need to sleep so you feel better."

She sniffled and buried her face against his chest. "You still love me?"

"Of course I do. And I think you're beautiful. Go to sleep, my Emma."

'My Emma.' She smiled and closed her eyes.

* * *

Rolling over in bed, she pulled a pillow over her head to quiet the drumming. "Turn off the music," she mumbled. Dear heaven, every muscle felt like it'd been run over by a truck and then beaten with a baseball bat.

Jason's voice mumbled in the background but didn't cut through the drumming. The bed shifted from his weight.

"Jason, turn it off."

Again, he said something but didn't speak up.

How hard was it to turn off music? Flinging the pillow down in irritation, the sunlight shone with blinding brightness that set off an explosion in her head. "Shit!" She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in the mattress. A jackhammer danced on her head.

"Emma." His voice rose a little, full of patience. He pressed two little beads in her hand. "You're hungover. Take the ibuprofen." Then he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to a sit before wrapping her hand around a glass. "Drink all of this. You're dehydrated."

She squeezed her eyes shut and took the pills and drank the water to stop the throbbing pain. When he took the empty glass, she buried her face in her hands to hold up her ten-thousand pound head. He mumbled something. "What?" Raising her voice over the drumming only earned another explosion in her brain. "Holy shit." Dropping to the side, she pulled the sheets over her head and curled up in a ball to die.

"Love, drink this decaf soda. The sugar helps metabolize alcohol by speeding up the processing of aldehyde dehydrogenase, which is thought to cause hangover symptoms."

"Shut up, you're making my head hurt worse." She pushed herself up without opening her eyes. A cold pop can touched her lips, so she drank. The cool fizz helped with the churning in her stomach.

He eased her down onto her side and buried his fingers in her hair, massaging her scalp and neck.

Her belly growled and cramped. She curled up in a tight ball. "I'm gonna die." She groaned in agony.

"Roll over so I can rub your stomach, sweetheart."

A pain shot through her lower belly and her eyes shot open. Then she ran for the bathroom.

After the worst bought of illness ever, she sank to her knees on the bathroom floor, too weak to stand. The salivating wouldn't stop from being nauseous, however.

"Em?" He knocked on the door.

"Go away." She probably looked like hell and now drooled like a rabid dog hanging over the sink.

He slipped in and grabbed a tissue. Then he wiped her mouth, tossed the tissue, and pressed his handkerchief to her mouth before she started again.

She held it as he lifted her in his arms. "Don't be nice - I'm hungover."

"Not by your own doing. In sickness and in health, Emma." Then he returned her to his bed and set a basin beside her. His hands gathered her hair in gentle strokes and he tied it in a low ponytail. "There. Now you don't have to hold back your hair too. Try some more soda." He handed her the can.

Her hands shook trying to hold it still, so he held the can to her lips.

When he set the can down a moment later, he laid down beside her. "Try to sleep through it, love."

She turned into his chest, his scent easing the nausea. "Thank you," she whispered.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

As she drifted off to sleep, it dawned that he hadn't been wearing the mask. But she hadn't quite looked directly at his face.

* * *

"Pull a dumbass stunt like this again, and you're never coming back. Am I clear?" The deep baritone kept quiet but anger dripped from each word.

"It was one drink. I didn't know she'd react like this to vodka." A soft female voice quivered.

"Vodka?! Why the hell didn't you say last night that it was vodka? Jesus, she should've gone to the hospital. She hardly drinks and is barely over a hundred pounds. You're damn lucky that a double shot in a glass that size didn't kill her! What the hell did you think would happen?" Jason hissed.

"I thought she'd taste it and realize there was vodka in it! She coughed the first couple drinks and just said it was strong. I thought she knew!"

"If she's never had vodka, how would she know? Wasn't it some kind of clue when she started getting tipsy?!"

"Can I at least open the curtains or turn on a light so we can at least argue like normal people?"

"No." He practically spat the word.

She couldn't quite drag her eyes open to stop them and every limb felt like a thousand pounds.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're always the one causing trouble and Emma comes behind you and cleans it up?" Jason sounded livid. He didn't roar for some reason, though. Instead, his voice remained quiet and measured. "How about you grow up and watch out for her for a change? Tell me, when she was raped did you even ask her how she was handling it, or sit there while she cried on your shoulder? Or did you try to take her out to a bar to 'get over it' like you did when she ran away from me?"

A sniffle.

"Don't. Your tears might work on her, but I'm so damn pissed at you right now that I have half a mind to throw you out of this house. Get out so I can check her."

Silence for a moment. "I want to help." Then Andy added, "You weren't there to see her grow up. Grandpa died before we were teenagers and Nana was so lost. Emma was the only one who could get through to her, the only one who could hold Nana together. Emma grew up before she should've and didn't have siblings around to play with to forget about her mom being in and out of the hospital with crippling migraines and her dad being gone for weeks to get as much overtime as possible to pay the bills. She was too serious and mature for everyone and didn't have many friends at school. She always came to me when she needed to kick back and forget about the real world. So when she came to me after the rape, so terrified yet that she couldn't be left home alone even a year after, I told her to move away and start somewhere new. I wish I was more like her, but sometimes I think she wishes she could be more like me. When she needs change but is afraid to do it, I give her the push. I know you don't like me very much, but I _am_ there for her when she needs me."

He didn't say anything for a moment, and then his tone came humbled and quiet. "Forgive me. You're right - I don't see that side of her begging to be freed. But don't pull a stunt like this again."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, Guest and BonapartNumberCrunch! For simplicity of readers who don't have English as a first language, I reintroduced Jason's accent but then faded back into American English. Emma eludes to it that his accent is still there, though.**

* * *

Sweet heaven, a fresh shower washed away the sleepless nights of the past few days. Jason came for a few minutes in the evenings after sunset. If he came to bed, he never stayed until sunrise. Worry had begun to gnaw at her stomach. Perhaps today he could be convinced to eat in the dark in the same room. Wrapping on a towel, she stepped into her bedroom. And stopped short.

The sun had been shut out of the room by the heavy drapes. She blinked to adjust to the lack of light.

"You've been avoiding me." The masculine voice floated through the shadows.

At least the dark would hide the flush of embarrassment. "Not initiating physical intimacy is different than avoiding. One does tend to do that after throwing up on her husband. You haven't exactly been showing interest in making love either." She padded over to the bed where she'd left fresh clothes for the day. Except instead of grabbing clothes, her hand bumped warm, hard muscle.

He caught her wrist and pulled her down to straddle his lap. Then he tugged off the towel. "I practiced medicine; vomit hardly moves me, much less yours. I haven't been avoiding; I've had other things on my mind. My apologies for neglecting you. Is this better?" His hands cupped her bare hips.

"Do I need to be careful how I answer that?" She smiled and set her hands on his chest.

"Must I have an ulterior motive to touch my gorgeous wife? But to answer your question, I have half a mind to get rid of the household help so you will have no use for clothes."

A laugh burst out. "You'll be embarrassed to take me anywhere."

"On the contrary, it's a perfect excuse for me to never leave the house." A smile came through his tone. The tips of his fingers glided up her back and one hand caressed around to her front to cup her breast. "You're so beautiful. I love it when you're warm and damp just out of the shower."

Leaning her forehead against his, she stroked his left cheek, smooth as silk from a fresh shave. "Are you healed enough to touch?"

"No." It may or may not have been the truth, but it was his answer. His body tensed.

"When you told Andy that you don't get to see the side of me begging to be freed...I want you to know that side hasn't existed since we got back together."

Silence. Perhaps he didn't believe it, or he did and had no comment. "Let me have you." In a swift move, he turned and pressed her into the mattress, pinning her hands above her head.

"Let me kiss you."

He didn't respond, but he didn't let go or shift his weight off either. Power and mystery exuded from him.

Her heart beat faster and heat curled where his weight pressed her hips into the bed. It was like he alternated between feeling emasculated and hypermasculine, just like the burn victim literature said could happen. Eventually he would find a balance again.

"Surrender to me." His deep voice rumbled in his chest and the heel of his free hand applied pressure between her legs.

A bolt of electric pleasure. A gasp of surprise and she squirmed at the unfamiliar restlessness mouting. RUnning her tongue over her teeth, she bit her lip. Something drove him to a primal need. And sweet heaven, he was so damn sexy.

"Give me your body." His weight shifted. "Submit to me."

Wet heat captured her breast, still without releasing her hands. His tongue moved and flicked over the peak. His hand dipped between her thighs. Her heart slammed. "Yes," she breathed and arched up against him.

His mouth crushed down on hers.

* * *

The woman looking back from the mirror still had the same plain brown hair and too big of a mouth and oversized hazel eyes - the same features as earlier this morning and for the past thirty-one years. But now...she seemed beautiful. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of how his touch had demanded pleasure and her body had complied without hesitation. For the first time, it hadn't felt like he'd been on guard for signs of a panic attack - for signs of Gaston tearing apart an intimate moment. Jason simply had been a man exquisitely pleasuring his wife...and finding abundant satisfaction himself from it. Somehow he'd been so aggressive and powerful without losing that tender side. Giving up control should have been terrifying, but it'd been so...safe and freeing. Fear hadn't hidden at every turn.

The bathroom light flipped off. Heat stepped behind and pressed her against the counter while large hands clamped her hips. "You napped for an hour."

She smiled and bit her lip, her eyes searching the mirror for a silhouette of him in the darkness. "You tired me."

"My apologies." His hands slid up her robe and then reached to remove the undergarment that wasn't there. "You aren't wearing clothes."

"You interrupted me after my shower and then I fell asleep. I didn't have time to dress yet." Her heart sped up in excitement when his arm wrapped around her waist and he took a step closer. Sweet heaven, he'd come for more. With a smile, she braced her hands on the counter.

"Are you sore? You're trembling."

"No." The breathless whisper melted into the air.

He didn't waste another second.

Her legs refused to hold her up a few minutes later. He swept her up in his arms and carried her to bed.

Rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself to sit up as he tucked her in. "I'm late for work."

"It's Fourth of July, sweetheart."

"It is? How did that come so fast?"

A smile carried through his tone. "Sleep." Then he started to pull away.

She caught his arm. "I already napped. Let's have a lazy day."

"I think we've had more than our share of exercise today."

Rolling her eyes, she unbuttoned his shirt. "Pajama day. And we don't have Trudy make meals - we forage our own lazy meals."

"Lazy meals?" He burst out laughing, the sound so long overdue. "Pray tell what are those?"

With a tug of his hand, she got him into bed and shed the rest of his clothes along the way. "We dig through the fridge and make sandwiches or whatever we can make in less than ten minutes." She draped a leg over his and laid her head on his shoulder. "And I get to touch my man candy all day." The light sprinkling of chest hair covering massive, rippling muscle tickled her fingertips. The heat of his abs pressed flat against her palm was even better.

"Man candy? Ah resent tha', lass." But a laugh mingled with his words. "Ah be more than a bit o' meat in yer bed."

Her eyes rolled back and she sat up to straddle his thigh. "You can't use your accent." Splaying her hands over his chest, she sighed in delight and dragged her nails in a soft, teasing scratch down his chest.

He drew in a deep breath and shifted beneath her, the light scratching obviously driving him crazy. "It be a lazy day. It comes ta pass tha' Ah get ta be lazy an' not use t' American accent."

She pulled down the sheets from his waist. "You're trying to drive me insane today." Biting her lip against the fire he knew how to stoke so well, she helped him on with the birth control. "You surrender to me this time."

"Ah do always, Emma." His voice grew so intimate and his gentle hand cradled her cheek. "Never am Ah not on me knees at yer feet."

Her heart stumbled and she stilled, at a loss for words. Even when he'd asked her to submit to him, he'd been feeding off of her cues, making sure she felt safe and respected at all times. "I love you," she whispered, her throat constricting with emotion.

"Ah love ye. So verra much, sweetheart."

Joining his body, she leaned down and kissed him until he figured out the rhythm with his new mouth...until the shame faded from his kiss.

* * *

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind as she made sandwiches at the island counter.

"Would you grab the mayonnaise?" She set two pieces of bread on each plate.

A quiet grumble but he pulled away. "This is me third trip here. What else?" His accent grew thicker with each passing minute, which made it tRicky to understand him. Thankfully, he didn't slip into Scottish slang.

She smiled but kept her back to him so he wouldn't be worried about hiding the scars. "Last thing. Promise." The fridge door closed and the mayonnaise appeared on the counter to the right. "Thank you, honey."

His hands cupped her hips through her pajamas and robe, and his thick black hair appeared out of the corner of her eye as he blowed his head and nibbled just below her right ear. "You're driving me crazy." His desire pressed against her bottom.

Her mouth fell open in surprise and she began to spread the mayonnaise on the sandwiches. "My goodness, Jay. What's gotten into you?" Then she smiled. "It seems like you've gone from impotency to not being able to turn off."

"I think I'd regret one more time right now. You must be getting sore too." His teeth grazed her ear lobe.

She giggled and pressed her shoulder to her ear. "I'm alright, but I think I'd regret pushing my luck."

Those large hands splayed over her belly and he moved to kissing the back of her neck when she held her ear hostage to her shoulder. "I want to put a baby in you so bad I can't stand it." His breathing grew heavier and his hands stroked the front of her thighs.

Swallowing hard, she tried to slow the rapid thumping of her heart. "Jay, we'll regret going at it like rabbits again."

"Don't call me 'Jay' like that," he panted, resuming the seduction of her ear.

"Trudy and Pete - " She dropped the butter knife and grabbed the counter when his hands moved to her inner thighs and his hips rocked against her bottom.

"Are gone to town to enjoy the festivities. I'll be gentle so you don't get sore."

* * *

Her heart still raced and body hummed as the sound of the drapes pulling shut cut through the silence. Then he slipped off her blindfold.

The bed flexed as he stretched out on his side. "My, lass, you're still trembling." His husky baritone poured like warm caramel. He licked the rosy peak of her breast. "Emma, you're so beautiful. Your body plays like a gorgeous violin." As if to prove his point, he stroked down her front, long and slow.

Her back arched, her body tingling in complete surrender as she still panted.

"Are you sore?"

"Almost."

"Forgive me." He brushed a kiss over her lips. "I'll leave you alone the rest of the day. I'm completely spent too. This must be what people mean when they talk about newlywed bliss."

She smiled and let him pull her closer, too tired to move herself. "It feels like we can finally start being married and not have other chaos interrupt."

"It does." A sigh from the depths of his soul released and he seemed so much more at peace today than in a long time.

"Let's watch a movie while we have lun - " Something cold and circular pressed into her palm, with some kind of chain dangling from it.

He slipped out from under her to sit up. The curtain on his side of the bed pulled back a bit, just enough to let in light to see what he'd put in her hand.

A large silver, oval locket with elegant, antique scrolling shined in the sunlight. "Jason," she breathed and sat up.

He wrapped an arm around and pulled her back to recline against his shoulder. "I'm still trying to find another Scottish stone to replace your ring. While I was searching, I received an email from Nana. Apparently she bought a smartphone." He chuckled. "I mentioned to Nana that someone had stolen your rings. This is the locket your grandfather had given her on their wedding day. She kept their wedding picture in it and wished for you to have it."

She opened it. On the left side, Nana and Grandad stood on their wedding day in a black and white photo looking at the camera. Even though they didn't smile, Nana's eyes shined and Grandad stood tall and proud with his arms around his new bride. Tears burned. They looked so happy. It was the photo on the right, however, that spilled over the tears.

A black and white wedding photo of her and Jason looked back, almost the same pose as Nana's wedding picture. Jason looked straight-on at the camera, capturing his mask. And he glowed with the most beautiful smile. He'd always turned his head a bit or looked down at her during the wedding photo shoot to hide the mask. She had no idea he'd looked at the camera for any of them. She swallowed hard, unable to speak.

"The photographer emailed that the photos were ready while I was in the hospital. I didn't find the email until a few days ago."

"Why did you look at the camera?" She sniffled and craned her neck to look up at him, only glimpsing his left profile.

Quiet emotion filled his words. "Do you remember what you said right before this picture?"

Looking at the picture again, she shook her head.

"It was our first time in public as newlyweds. You were freezing in your satin gown with the snow falling, but you wanted a picture of us without our coats in front of the church. Everyone on the street watched and stared. The photographer couldn't get his camera to turn on, and more and more people gawked while you froze to death."

The memory returned. Strangers had even stopped on the sidewalk to stare and whisper about Jason. "And you gave me your tux jacket so I wouldn't 'die of pneumonia.'" She smiled. And then another memory followed on its heels, kIllini the smile. An old woman had walked past and spit at him, luckily missing.

 _She looked at the woman in shock and then at Jason, who remained composed and silent._

 _"The Devil hides beneath," the old woman sneered and pointed her cane at the mask._

 _Jason paled sheet white._

 _"Shame on you! Go!" She barked at the woman and wrapped her arms around him. The woman hobbled away but Jason stared at sidewalk with a look of panic like he might run. Like he had sudden doubts about the wedding._

 _So she cupped his face in her numb hands and forced him to look at her. "It's our wedding day and no one can ruin it." She smiled from the depths of her heart. "I love you." When he still looked scared, she swallowed down all self-consciousness and flung out her arms, dropped her head back, and spun in a circle. And she shouted at the top of her lungs, "I love you!" It echoed down the streets and people gawked and cars honked._

 _Someone even yelled, "Get the crazy woman off the street!"_

 _When she stopped and looked at him with a smile, tears glistened in his eye. "I love you," she whispered._

 _"I love you," he croaked._

"You didn't care who watched," Jason said, interrupting the memory. "You said you loved me and stood on your toes and kissed me on the street, with everyone gawking." He paused for a moment, as if overwhelmed by the emotion. "It was the first time I've been in public with you and for one moment didn't feel ashamed for you to be seen with me. You were so proud to stand on my arm and..." He cleared his throat. "I didn't care who stared."

"I'm never ashamed." She leaned back in his arms to look up at his profile.

"I know. But it's an entirely different thing to believe it." He stroked her cheek with his free hand and searched her eyes. "I'm going to be selfish, though, and ask that to be the only photograph of us in that pose."

She smiled and nodded. He needed it to be a private photo, one kept close to her heart. "Thank you. It'll protect it, Jay. Let's go have lunch and then look at the other wedding pictures."

* * *

On her way to the kitchen to finish making lunch while he stayed back so she could close the curtains, the doorbell rang. She frowned and walked to the door. Visitors rarely came and Pete and Trudy had house keys. The home nurse and red-headed woman stood on the other side of the peep hole. Tightening her robe, she combed her fingers through her hair and opened the door. "Hello." She frowned. "Um, I didn't think you'd be here today."

"I'm sorry for being late. I figured Dr. Port would want to sleep in for the holiday, but it's important to not get off track with the wound care. I brought a massage therapist because I know his neck has been giving him headaches."

Jason had made no such complaint that she knew of. "Of course. Please come in. Excuse me, we're having a lazy day. I'll tell him you're here." She trotted back upstairs, her stomach in knots. He had seemed to relax today - this was the last thing he needed. "Honey?" Wringing her hands, she walked into his room. "Um, the nurse is here and - "

"I heard. Not today." His accent vanished and his voice came from the left at the far side of the dark hall.

She turned around and walked back into the hall, taking slow steps so as not to plow into him. "She said it's important to stay on track." His heat permeated and she reached out a hand to touch his chest. His heart thudded fast and hard under her hand. "Just for a few minutes and then we can have the rest of the day to ourselves."

He didn't speak.

"Jay, why didn't you tell me that your neck has been causing headaches?"

No answer.

"Tell me what's wrong."

But he just pulled away. His voice carried in from the bedroom, dull and flat. "Send them up in three minutes."

With a sigh, she returned to the nurse, who whispered to the masseuse. A sad glint tinted the nurse's eye.

"How much longer does he need a home nurse? It's nothing personal, but he isn't keen on the visits." She jammed her hands in her pockets to not fidget in nervousness for him.

"Patients never are. Just another week, I should think. But a physical therapist really needs to start soon."

She frowned. "Is this something he should've started already?"

"Yes. I told him the first time I saw him that the hypertrophic scarring is substantial and his head and jaw movement will be further impeded as it heals. If he'd go see the physician again, he may also be able to help with the allodynia. I brought the massage therapist along to see if perhaps she can help in the meantime."

"Allodynia?"

The nurse blinked. "I, I assumed he'd told you..."

"What is it exactly that you do when you come?" She bit her lip. 'Dynia' in Latin had something to do with pain, although she wasn't sure what.

"Well, the wounds are still a bit raw. Having bandages on is ideal but if he keeps the area clean, he can be without. I check and make sure everything is alright, applying topical antibiotic to areas that seem a bit more inflamed than they should. On the rest, I apply a salve to keep it from drying out and getting irritated. Around his mouth is still very raw from where the bandage adheres to serve as his lip. We tape it on in different spots so the same skin isn't irritated more than twice a week. He says that most days he leaves the bandage off until nightfall."

So he didn't just keep to the dark because of the scars - he kept to the dark because he had no control over his salivating without having the bandage on during the days. And he didn't come around because of the speech impediment without the bandage. She closed her eyes. The self-induced isolation made sense now. "And what is this allodynia?"

Regret filled the nurse's eyes. "It's pain to nonpainful stimuli. Even a gentle breeze or the brush of the bandage over non-open wounds cause pain over the burns where the nerves didn't die. Hypertrophic scarring can sometimes wrap around nerves and constrict them, causing constant pain. So far he hasn't complained of constant pain."

She walked upstairs with the women. "If the scars are sensitive to touch, I don't understand how a masseuse will help."

The masseuse, of similar age but with a sturdier physique, spoke up. "Some patients tolerate pain because getting tensed muscles to relax is better than pain during massage. Others get relief in pressure points and some have relief in getting surrounding muscles relaxed. We see what makes him feel best." The woman's slightly broken English had a lovely German lilt to it.

Light poured from his bedroom and the floorboards creaked a rhythmic pacing. "Let me speak to him for a moment." Then she stepped closer to the doorway. "Jay?" She entered and closed the door.

He turned away to offer his left profile.

"The nurse mentioned allodynia. You didn't tell me that you hurt." She walked over and wrapped her fingers around his forearm. "May I stay with you for the appointment?"

His throat convulsed in a hard swallow and his head bowed. "It looks worse since you saw it."

"It doesn't matter." She stroked the back of her knuckles over his left cheek. "I don't have to look, if you don't want."

That sad blue eye sidled to her and then he stared at the floor. "I don't wear the bandages because I can't stand the pain of something touching it." His voice lost its strength and fell to a whisper. "I can't sleep because it hurts for my head to touch the pillow. I don't...I don't eat with you because I can't control..." A shakey breath escaped his lips. "I can't control the food not coming back out. It's so hard to eat that I'm hungry all the time and can't stop drooling like an animal."

Her heart wrenched. "Then we keep making foods until we find some that are easier to eat so you don't go hungry. We'll get through this. It's going to take time to see how much things will get improve and how much intervention is needed. I want to learn how to help. I don't want Pete to help you every night with whatever he does for your scars - I want to help my husband. Are you worried I'm going to run?"

He looked at her again from the corner of his eye, with tears shimmering in the afternoon sunlight. "I don't want to scare you." He whispered like even the words might shatter everything.

She swallowed down a lump. "You could not frighten me, Jay."

His hand reached out and wrapped around her forearm, as if needing to hold on tight and not let go...as if desperate for redemption. "I can't stand the darkness anymore," he breathed.

"Then take my hand and we'll find the light together. I'll do my best to keep away the monsters in the world. But in this home and with me, there are none. Trudy, Pete, and certainly I will always accept and protect and love you. We're your family." She took his hand. "Do you want me to see?"

That strong brow creased so deep with worry. "I'm tired of hiding."

"Then don't hide from me." She stroked his cheek.

So he turned toward the light, revealing the scars a fraction at a time.

The flesh had healed from bloody to not quite as raw. Yet, it did look worse. The entire half of his face bore angry, red inflammation. And the scars themselves...they had grown so much worse even in just over a week. The pitting and crevices had grown deeper from the scars getting a bit thicker and taller. It had yet to be seen how his mouth faired underneath the bandage.

She searched his eye, holding back the threatening tears for what he endured. "Maybe we should go to the doctor to see what he can do to help with the pain. You should tell me that you hurt so I can help - "

He pulled back into the shadows of the room. "And appear even more decrepit to my wife?" Anger infiltrated the words.

Raising her eyebrows, she set her hands on her hips but kept the tone calm. "Jay, if I ever see that nurse again who convinced you that you have some kind of pain med addiction, I'll show you a good cat fight. You have a very real injury and should not have to suffer. The nurse brought a masseuse - "

"No."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't even consider the idea."

"I just did."

The man needed a different approach. She walked over and set her hands on his chest, and he turned his face away a bit to hide most of the scars. "Then let her teach me how to massage. You can do anything you want to me before and after your massages." She purred the words in hope of bribing him into agreement.

"I think with my brain too, you know."

Cracking a smile, she took a step back and shrugged. "Alright. It was just a suggestion. I'll tell her to send the masseuse home." She turned and shrugged her robe over the armchair, peeled off her pajamas and wandered through the connecting door to her bedroom that was still closed off from the hall because of earlier activities.

As expected, his footsteps crossed the floorboards and large hands grabbed her hips to pull her back against a hard chest. "Don't think I don't know what you just did," he growled in her ear. "You'll pay for your conniving, wife." His hand gave a single, tantalizing stroke between her thighs that made her knees buckle. Then he gave a swat to her bottom and let go.

Her lips parted in surprise and she spun around.

He backed up to the connecting door, keeping his left profile visible. A cocky grin spread over his lips. "Your front is just as enticing as your backside. I commend your negotiating methods, my dear."

She pursed her lips. The blasted man had beat her at the game. "You're a bit arrogant."

"And you're a bit enjoying it." Then he winked and closed the door.

Technically, he had ended up agreeing to the masseuse. She pulled on jeans and a low-cut tanktop that wasn't indecent but would give him enough of a teasing view for revenge. At the very least, it might help distract him a little from the pain of the appointment.

The man sat as complacent as a child in a chair in the middle of his room while the nurse laid out supplies on the nightstand. He wore jeans but no shirt, and his eye met hers when she entered. Nervousness robbed the arrogance from his gaze this time. His hands curled into soft fists on his knees from the stress.

She kept on his left and sat beside him on her haunches, setting a hand over his and facing him.

That blue eye flicked down to her tank and then back to her eyes with a pointed look. He knew her game, and a light smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"The first thing is wash your hands and glove." The nurse turned and looked at her.

She blinked and then looked at Jason. "Oh. Do you want me to help with this?"

His brow furrowed in contemplation and he finally gave a small shake of his head.

"I'll listen for what to do, but I won't look, alright?"

He gave a slight nod.

"Okay." The nurse gloved and picked up a gauze pad. Then she went through the steps of applying the antibiotic ointment and the salve.

Jason's jaw muscle twitched while he stared at the floor, as if zoning out. When the nurse got to the edges of the scars and, particularly, the back of his head, his eye closed and he breathed deep. His hands clutched his thighs in pain.

Slipping her hands into his, she countered the strong pressure. A sheen broke out on his brow as the nurse counted to ten, working as fast as possible. When the nurse finished, his damp chest heaved.

She wiped his brow and chest with a cold rag the nurse had waiting before his eye finally opened.

"The worst is done." The nurse set a hand on his shoulder. Then the woman picked up a fresh gauze and squirted the thick salve on it before she reached for his shoulder scar.

"May I, Jay?" She mopped his forehead and met his eye, not holding her breath for a sudden miracle.

Silence. He didn't move for one second. And then two. THree. Four. He hadn't allowed her to care for his injuries since coming home from the hospital. Then he took her hand to help her up.

She smiled and set aside the rag to wash her hands.

When she returned, he took her elbow and guided her kneel between his legs. He turned his head forty-five degrees to the right to shield the wounds somewhat from sight, but his neck muscles strained - the scars prevented him from turning his head ninety degrees.

Stroking his sound cheek with the back of her hand, she met his eye. "I won't look, honey." Only then did he stop fighting his neck.

She followed the nurse's direction for how long to apply a warm compress that would soften the scar tissue in an attempt to get it to open up and absorb the moisturizing salve. The entire time, Jason studied her with a tender look in his eye. Something about him changed...like he finally accepted her help with his daily care.

"Perfect, Mrs. Port." The nurse patted his good shoulder with a smile a few minutes later. "She'll have you as good as new in no time!"

He gave a shy smile and seemed to forget that she could see the scars. His cheek flushed a soft pink in embarrassment. The dear man looked so positively sweet.

"Now, let's try massage and see if we can loosen up those adhesions." The nurse went to the doorway and the masseuse entered.

His entire body locked with tension as the masseuse introduced herself.

The woman didn't bat an eye at his scars and stepped behind him, explaining the neck massage she'd do on his healthy flesh to get him used to the sensation.

As soon as the woman touched his neck well away from the scars, his shoulders pulled up a fraction and his chest rose sharply from inhaling and holding a breath. His fingers bit into his thighs and he leaned forward a hair, as if to escape the masseuse's touch.

"Does it hurt, Jay?" She frowned and set a hand on his corded arm.

"No." He barely squeezed the word out and then bit his lip. The tension in him shot through the roof.

"Relax. If it hurts, I stop." The masseuse moved closer to the scars, her movements appearing gentle.

But his jaw muscles flexed from clenched teeth. Pain didn't reflect in his eye - he simply didn't want to be touched. Perhaps he didn't want to be touched at all or just by a stranger.

The masseuse and nurse seemed to notice too because they glanced at her.

"Jay? May I practice?"

He more than readily nodded. "Curtains."

She pulled the curtains to let in only enough light to see for not bumping the tender scars. Then she took the masseuse's place behind him. The tension melted away under her hands and her heart stumbled. How safe he felt in her hands and how much responsibility came with that privilege. He didn't entirely relax as the masseuse taught how and where to rub - the poor man still seemed a bit tense under the presence of other people.

After escorting out the nurse and masseuse, she returned upstairs. The bedroom had been cast into full darkness. "Jay?"

"I'm putting on a shirt."

Walking over to the sound of his voice near the bed, she reached out and caught his finger. "Take it off. You didn't enjoy that massage at all - "

"Emma."

"No. The point is to help limber your muscles and scars, and you were tense during it. They're gone now. Let me."

Silence. Then his voice flowed, quiet and ashamed. "You didn't wed a brave man."

"Hush. I wed a man so brave, he's going to get himself killed one day rescuing someone. Sit. Your head will be at the right height for the massage that maybe I can knock some sense into that thick skull. You were self-conscious having them here. Come." She grabbed his hand and turned to drag him to the chair. Only the chair was right there.

She pitched forward over the top of it, holding Jason's hand tighter in instinct to keep from falling. Only, he tripped over her. An arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her to the side as she fell. It all happened so fast. She rolled and landed on something hard and a bit lumpy.

"Are you hurt?" Warm hands patted her down and the thing that had broken her fall moved.

Jason. He'd done a tuck and roll fall with her. "I'm fine. You?" She pushed up off his chest and reached for him. Her finger poked something warm and gooey.

"Ow. Well, if I had that eye, I wouldn't anymore," he chuckled and his clothes rustled as he sat up.

"Sorry."

"Wash your hand - that salve has some steroid in it that you don't need exposure to. On second thought, don't move so you don't kill one of us."

"Oh, har har." But she sat still while he got up and cracked open the curtains. AFter washing the salve off her hand, she walked over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Hi."

He tried turning his face away. "What are you doing?"

She smiled and stood on her toes. "I haven't seen you in weeks and I miss it."

"You - "

"No, I mean you. Like this. Just us, no bandages or shadows." She glanced at his lip bandage when he opened his mouth. "That one doesn't count 'cause you won't be without it or a handkerchief."

"So good of you," he commented in a dry tone and cocked his eyebrow.

Not letting him dampen the happiness of seeing his bared soul again, she grinned and pecked a kiss on his lips. "Repeat after me. My gorgeous wife..."

A smile touched his lips. "My gorgeous wife."

"Is incredibly brilliant. As such..."

"Is incredibly brilliant. As such." He set his hands on her hips.

"I will not argue with her when she says she thinks..."

He repeated it, a suspicious but happy gleam growing in his eye.

"I'm handsome and her hero."

"I - " His words faded as it sunk in, and his mouth closed. He swallowed hard and looked away, the gleam fading.

"And brave and intelligent. And she's going to tell me every day until I believe it too." She stroked his cheek.

He swallowed hard. "Why do you love a beast?" he whispered.

"I don't - I love a man. Why do you see a beast?"

No answer came forth, so she linked her arm through his. "Let's go finish making lunch."

* * *

"I don't know how you can do this in the dark." She laughed and patted the kitchen island to feel for her glass of milk.

He remained quiet but at least he ate in the same room. Napkins constantly rustled and his self-conscious, loud chewing created background noise as he did his best to be a dining companion.

A clank of glass and a splash broke the silence as she bumped her glass of milk. Just when it registered that she'd knocked it over, the lights popped on. An empty seat with an unfinished meal left behind remained on the right, along with the lip bandage. She looked around but he was gone. With a sigh, she got up and cleaned the spilled milk. So much for lunch together. When she refilled the glass and sat down to finish, the lights flipped off again.

"Kee-ph one hand on t' glass." Lisps and swooshes of air filled his speech as he crossed the kitchen. His heat returned.

"I thought you'd abandoned me."

Grunting served as his answer.

"Do you not want me to talk?" He didn't seem upset but he didn't seem cuddly since coming down to the kitchen either.

His chewing filled the air for a moment. Then his words came out a bit muffled like he pressed the napkin to his mouth. "I can barely eat, much less speak at the same time." The words were blunt, but his tone held patience.

"I know. I just wasn't sure if me talking irritated you."

He grunted in his throat in disagreement.

"I like eating with you." That wouldn't have earned a reply even if he'd had his mask on.

"Are Trudy and Pete coming back before the fireworks this evening?" Asking him 'yes' or 'no' questions would probably be easiest.

Another grunt of disagreement.

She blinked when a sloppy licking of lips cut through the silence. A cold, wet thing bumped her left leg. Her heart shot into her throat and she bumped against Jason.

"T' dog."

"Oh." A nervous giggled bubbled up and she sat down in her seat again. "I didn't know he came in. Maybe I should go set up the movie."

A grunt of agreement. Prince remained an ever-faithful dog...guarding for falling food.

While flipping through the movies to rent in the cabin room at the back of the house, something black moved out of the corner of her eye. It moved again. A spider. A big one. On the wall. She shot into the kitchen. And plowed into a hard chest with a squeak of surprise.

His hands wrapped around her upper arms and he didn't move or speak.

She looked up, searching the blackness.

The grip on her arms released and his hands traveled up to cup her face. The soft pad of his thumb caressed over her lips. "So small, yet a spirit bigger than any of us." The whispered words floated through the air.

"Jay? Are you alright?" She frowned. He seemed sad.

His arms wrapped around in a tight hug and his cheek pressed atop of her head as she hugged him. "I'm just so tired. I have all my limbs and can walk and have no right to complain..."

Pressing her cheek to his chest, she gave his waist a squeeze of reassurance. "But things are still hard for you, and it doesn't help seeing Trudy, Pete, and I not - "

"I would never wish to trade places with you, Emma. If this had to happen, I'm thankful it didn't happen to you," he cut in.

"And yet I climb the walls watching you suffer as much as you would if it'd been me. First rule: no more dark. It's depressing and it's clinically proven that going without sunlight will cause depression. Second rule: you let me help. There's no reason why I can't help with the headaches by giving massages or help care for your scars to give you reprieve. Third rule: I think right now you need to be reminded that you're needed, so rescue the damsel in distress." She hopped up and he caught her legs wrapped around his waist.

"What's the distress, madam?" A smile lightened his voice.

"A spider."

He burst out laughing.

It was gone. She folded her arms over her chest and stood in the doorway as he searched the room. "I'm not coming in until you get it."

"Love, it could be in the foyer by now." He pulled the sofa back in place and pushed back the chair.

A black spider scurried across the floor toward her. She screamed and darted along the wall toward the protection of Jason.

The man caught her in his arms. "Stay back. It might shoot us."

She swatted his chest. "Go get it!"

With a grin, he strode across the room and scooped it up in his hand. Then he walked to the window, opened it and tossed it out before closing the window again. "There. All gone." He brushed his hands off and turned to look at her with a proud smile, seeming to forget he stood in the bright room without a mask.

"Don't expect a big tip from me, with spider germs on you. Wash your hands."

A glint flickered in his eye and he crossed the room.

"Don't you dare." She held out a hand and stepped back.

He grinned and advanced. "I think it squished." He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers.

"Don't be a stupid boy. That's gross." She backed up and hit the wall. The idiot followed, still holding up his hand.

She folded her arms over her chest and gave him a look that said he'd be in the doghouse for five years if he didn't stop.

He dropped his hand and took another step, brushing a kiss over her cheek. "I wouldn't really. We have to work on your bug phobia."

Her jaw dropped. "You certainly aren't helping it!"

The man did a poor job of smothering his smile. "You make it hard to want to fix it when you climb in my arms to be rescued." Then he brushed a kiss over her lips before he exited. His footsteps faded.

When he reappeared, the carefree happiness had left his expression, and he kept the scars turned away. "Did you pick a movie?" He closed one set of drapes and moved to the next set, his voice holding no emotion.

She frowned. "What's wrong?"

"You should remind me if I forget." The fact that he'd forgotten to hide the scars seemed to distress him. He moved to the third and final window.

Wandering over to the first window, she pulled the drapes open and then sauntered toward him, pulling off her tank top and kicking off her jeans on the way. "I don't know what you're talking about." With a smile, she peeled his shirt up his muscles torso.

He raised his arms over his head without a word but didn't seem too intrigued.

The soft cotton of his t-shirt caressed as she pulled it on. It fell to her upper thighs and the sleeves reached her elbows. Desire flickered in his eye for a split second. She braided her hair and flipped the end of it over itself to keep tied. "Did you know that it's the femurs that have the most height difference?"

He simply grunted.

Setting her hands on his shoulders, she jumped and wrapped her legs around his waist. She smiled when he caught her with ease, and she captured his mouth before he had a chance to hide his face.

* * *

The man absently ran his fingers through her loose hair during the fireworks, creating tingling in her scalp from the soothing strokes. She rested her head back against his chest where she sat curled up in his lap in the windowseat, just like a year ago.

Another boom from an exploding red firework. His hand stilled and pulled away.

Her breath stilled and then her heart beat faster. Maybe the booms reminded him of war. She sat up and turned. "Honey - "

His mouth crushed against hers. Without a bandage. The breadth of his hands cupped her face.

Too shocked to respond, she stared.

He opened his eye and pulled back but didn't let go. "I want to learn to kiss you." Air swished through the gape of missing teeth and lip. "To move about in light without a mask." His throat convulsed several times in an attempt to control the saliva. It began to threaten to overflow and glistened in the rainbow popping of fireworks. He pressed his lips together and moved his mouth to try to stop it while fumbling in his pockets in a panic for a handkerchief.

Reaching up, she brushed it away as gently as possible with her thumb. "To not be ashamed without the bandage."

That blue eye met hers and he stilled, the panic seeming to fade. His fingers slowly wrapped around her hand. "You touched me," he whispered in shock.

She blinked. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking..." She tride to pull her hand back. It was the first time touching his scars in more than three months...since the mission had taken his face again.

But he held fast. His hand cupped over hers where she touched his mangled lip and scars. Tears shimmered in his eye under the glow of the fireworks, and he whispered, "Don't stop."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, BonapartNumbercrunch, Singingsilent and YazminXD! It helps seeing readers' reactions to know exactly where to take the next chapter.**

* * *

Daylight seemed to rob him of courage because he remained out of sight the next day. Which probably was a good thing.

Trudy set down the scissors in the bathroom with tears in her eyes. "Such a sweet thing to do, don'tcha know. I bet it just melted Dr. Port's heart like a popsicle."

She winced and picked up the long brown ponytail no longer attached. "I didn't exactly tell him."

The woman's eyes widened in the mirror. "Oh dear. Well, he'll be in for a double surprise. Like a hibernating bear in July."

"And perhaps as grouchy as a hibernating bear in July." Pulling up what was left of her hair into a tight French twist, she bit her lip and avoided looking in the mirror. "I've never had it shoulder length. Well, not since third grade when everyone teased me for it making my eyes look even bigger. It'll grow back...in a year. Or two. Or three." It might be a long few years.

"It curls lovely as a petal, don'tcha know. Your eyes are lovely. If I had enough, I'd cut mine off too and join t' cause." Trudy pried the long, mutilated locks from her hand.

* * *

When she went to the kitchen for a glass of water in the afternoon, she stood at the sink. Someone watched. A shoe clicked on the marble floor and the curtains closed to the right side of the kitchen. Light from the sink window and the doorway to the foyer weren't enough to chase the shadows from the room.

With a smile, she didn't turn and took a drink from the glass. "One would think you don't work anymore with how you slink about the house. You always seem to find me." She set the glass down and turned, leaning back against the sink.

"'Tisn't a hard task - the floorboard outside your office door squeaks whenever you enter or leave." The deep timber floated from the darkness in the far corner.

"And here I thought you enjoyed following me." The corner of her mouth pulled up in a seductive smile.

He spoke with a calm, honey-smooth tone. "No, my dear; I enjoy watching you. One would think a woman of your size would flit about the house, but you move with a willowy grace that brings me pleasure to watch."

Her heart skipped a beat and a flush rose up. Her gaze dropped from the shadows to the floor.

"I've embarrassed you. Then I shall not mention what I've been longing to do with you all day."

Looking from beneath her lashes at the shadows, she shifted from the heat that curled in her belly. "You are shameless. I'd think you had your fill yesterday."

"Turn around."

Without hesitation, she did.

Heat radiated at her back and he captured her hips between his hands. He pressed against her backside, leaving little doubt as to his thoughts. "On the contrary," he whispered in her ear, his hot breath stirring stray strands of hair, "you left me like a thirsting man in the desert - I've had a sip of you, and I'd do anything for more." Then he caught the hair clip and pulled it out. And her hair tumbled down...tripped was more like it.

She squeezed her eyes shut and winced.

He stilled. "Where's your hair?"

"Um, well, funny story..."

His fingers ran through it - rather quick compared to before. "I'm all ears." Of course he'd never say her hair should or shouldn't be long, but the man often complimented the long locks. He seemed to like the more feminine look of long hair.

"Well, one of the little girls at the Foundation wrote a letter to Santa asking for hair like mine for Christmas because it looks like how hers did before chemo - she asked now so he would have time to grow it. Mary got ahold of the letter and sent it to me asking me to send a picture so the hair stylist could dye a wig to match mine. I called the beautician, and we got to talking that six ponytails make a wig - "

"Ahhhh! Emma!" Trudy's screech rang through the house and she came charging into the kitchen looking at her phone. "Look! Look!" She shoved it in her face. "They're all doing ' it, don'tcha know!" Trudy burst into tears of happiness.

"What on earth are you babbling about?" Jason stepped back in the shadows a couple feet.

Trudy seemed to notice him finally and clutched the phone to her chest. "The staff at the Foundation. They heard of Emma cutting off her hair and they're all doing it to make the children better wigs. It's like a miracle from Jesus."

Her eyebrows shot up. "And how did they hear I cut it?"

"Socializing media. I put a picture of your ponytail." Tears streamed down Trudy's face and she ran out calling Pete's name.

A heavy sigh came from the shadows. "That woman sometimes..." It was easy to imagine him rubbing his temples. "So my wife started a social media trend. I must say, the marketing department will be grateful if it goes viral. You didn't need to cut your hair, Emma."

She shrugged. "A little girl needed it more than I did. It'll grow back." Keeping her eyes diverted, her cheeks grew warmer as the silence ticked by.

"Your hair like that makes your eyes look bigger - "

She spun back toward the sink and buried her face in her hands in mortification. Of course it looked as awful as it had in third grade. "It'll grow back and look better soon." She dashed it together in a rough twist again to get it up as fast as possible. "I can keep it up until then - "

His hands wrapped around her wrists and eased them down. The twist fell apart. "You didn't let me finish." He turned her and hooked a finger under her chin to lift her head up.

Biting her lip, she searched the hint of his face in the shadows.

"Your eyes are one of your most beautiful features. Did it occur to you that children teased you as a child because they were jealous?" His voice grew husky. "You look so sexy." His fingers ran through it again. "Get upstairs." Desperation mingled with lust in his words.

"I'm supposed to be working."

"You didn't take a lunch break. Just ten minutes. Get upstairs. Now." He swatted her bottom and nudged her forward to lead the way.

She laughed in surprise and hurried upstairs. His heavy footsteps nipped at her heels.

His room had only one drape open at the far end of the room, leaving just enough light to make out gray hues. He barely shut the door before he shoved her back against the wall and practically attacked her mouth. His hand fisted in her hair at the back of her head. "Oh god, Emma, it's short enough to pull without getting my fingers tangled and hurting you," he panted between kisses. Then he cursed in wonderful torment. "Your hair won't hide your breasts. Sweet heaven, I think I died. Take off your clothes." He stepped back and tore off his clothes in record time and then helped her.

A giggle of embarrassment bubbled up as much as delight that a simple haircut could drive him so wild. The man barely put on birth control before the fever took hold of him.

She wandered downstairs seven minutes later, her legs still wobbly.

Trudy walked past in the foyer with a smile and stack of fresh towels. "Told ya he'd like it."

She froze, utterly mortified. Dear heaven, maybe they'd heard. Jason had been quite exhuberant, making it hard to keep quiet. Then she shook her head and kept walking. Some things were better left unasked.

* * *

"There's my beautiful bride." A heavy tread entered her bedroom at nine o'clock a week later, as usual now.

"I don't know that you can say I'm your bride when we've been married almost seven months." She set aside the book and turned off the bedside light.

The bed flexed under his weight as he pulled down the sheets and nudged her knees apart. "You're wearing a nightgown. I told you no clothes to bed." He tugged on her nightgown, bumping her breast.

She gasped and hissed in a breath, pushing away his hand.

He stilled. "I'm sorry. Are you hurt?" Confusion tinted his voice.

"Jason, not tonight." She shifted.

When he rolled off, he didn't say anything for a moment. "Em, was I too rough last night? I didn't realize. I'll - "

"No, I just want to go to sleep." She rolled away and presented her back to him.

"Oh...alright." He scooted closer and spooned, draping his arm over her hip.

The weight of his hand against her lower stomach felt uncomfortable, so she nudged his hand away.

"Emma, what's going on? You act like you're angry." Hurt softened his words.

Lying on her side didn't help the discomfort all that much. "I don't feel well."

"Sweetheart, how don't you feel well?" He leaned up on his elbow.

"I feel tired and crabby and my breasts hurt like crazy. I'm bloated and crampy." Tears welled.

"Did you eat something - "

"No, here." She pressed his hand over her lower, center belly.

He didn't say anything at first. "Is it PMS, love?"

"I don't get it this bad and a full week early." She burst into irrational tears. "Why are you being dense?"

"I'm not, I'm just making sure I'm following what you're saying." He rolled her over and wrapped his arm around.

"We aren't ready for a baby, and I don't want to be pregnant if this is what the first few days feel like before I even start puking and getting fat." She buried her face against his chest.

"Princess, you won't get fat, and some women don't get any morning sickness at all."

She swatted his arm and cried harder. "You're supposed to be excited if there's a baby. You sound like we're talking about paint colors."

His chest bounced once in a contained laugh. "I'm trying to stay calm because one of us needs to - "

Shoving against his chest, she whipped off the blankets and stormed across the room for some distance. "Oh, I'm irrational because I'm worried if we're ready for this?! Right. She's a hormonal woman and overreacting - "

"I did not say that," he cut in, his voice firm. The bed creaked like he got up. "You don't need to attack me. I know you don't feel well and you're panicking. What do you need from me to feel better?"

His calmness didn't help as much as it should've. The emotions felt so out of control. "I'm not attacking you! I w...you just..." She burst into sobs, the hor ones causing too much havoc.

"It's alright. I'm right here and we're in this together." His arms cocooned in a safe embrace and he rocked. "Tell me what you're thinking, sweetheart."

"I don't know. I don't even know why I'm crying." The tears soaked his bare chest.

"That's alright. Just let it out until you feel better." He continued a gentle sway from side to side.

It took several minutes to feel like a normal person again. She lifted her head. "Your chest is soaked."

"It'll dry. I'm waterproof." A soft smile lightened his voice. "Do you feel better?" The pad of his thumb brushed away the tearstained on her cheeks.

She nodded. "Is it better to take a home pregnancy test?"

A heartfelt sigh broke the silence. "I'm not personally a fan of early pregnancy tests until menstruation is at least a week late. There are so many things that must happen perfectly with just the right timing. Chemical pregnancies are common but women don't even realize they're happening, which I think is more often for the best."

"Chemical pregnancies?"

"A pregnancy that fails shortly after implantation. It's fairly common, and most women just think it's a late period."

Her eyes widened. "So when I was late after the honeymoon it was a baby..."

"No, no, no. I think that was severe stress." He took her hands. "My vote is we wait a couple more weeks until you're at least a week late. There's no need for the psychological trauma of knowing it's a pregnancy that didn't take."

"But isn't it better to know if they keep turning out to be chemical pregnancies? Then maybe there's something wrong."

"But if you aren't late, maybe it was just a false positive. Emma, I'm not saying to not take the test now if you're going to worry, but if it is positive and then you bleed, there will be grieving and fear that it'll happen again. It's unnecessary stress that could adversely affect the next pregnancy. We've been using birth control. There's a risk that there was a tiny tear and semen got out, but the chances of it being pregnant are slim."

"So, you think it's just hormones out of wack?" She bit her lip.

"Most likely, but I can't say for certain. You can test if you'd like, but I want you to be ready that it could be a chemical pregnancy so you aren't devastated."

"Alright, we'll wait a couple weeks." She laid down in bed with him and stared up at the dark ceiling. "Jay?"

"Hm?" His arm draped across her ribs.

"This evening I have an aversion to sex and my breasts hurt just being there. I've heard sex aversion is a protective instinct to keep the baby safe. What if we test and in a month or two I get my period?" She swallowed hard.

"I didn't mean to frighten you, love. We just need to accept that it might take a few tries and that's normal. A lost pregnancy in the first few a weeks is most likely a severe genetic flaw and not your fault, alright? It could go the other way and every single time the pregnancy pulls through without any hitch. We take one day at a time, love."

* * *

A week later, she groaned getting dressed and tossed the bra on the bed. Then she sat and leaned her hands down on the bed for some relief.

"Oh dear. It's getting that bad?" He stepped in from his bedroom and sat down behind to do the massage he had mastered over the past week.

"It feels like I'm stuffing to get my bra on."

"You do feel a bit swollen. Maybe it would be best to take the test now. If it's not pregnancy, then you've discovered the secret to breast enhancement without surgery."

"That's not funny. It hurts." She sat back against his chest. "Right there." Catching his hands, she held him there to cup just right in a way that made all the terrible aching stop.

"I'm not making fun of you, love. I feel terrible that you're sore."

"It's probably your fault."

"I know. I promise to be a good slave the next nine months. During labor, you can have a free shot at the family jewels."

The man sounded so remorseful that she laughed. "I'll wait until the last baby is born."

"Good idea. Do you want a pregnancy test? I have a couple left from last time."

"I thought we were waiting another week."

"Do you want to take it now?"

"It would kinda be nice to know if something comes out of this misery. Jay? I threw up right before you came in." Silence. She sat up and turned to look at him.

His chest rose and fell and he swallowed hard as a smile glinted in the shadows. "I'll go get the test." His voice came out hoarse with emotion.

He returned and handed her the box. His hands shook and his eye seemed misty. "Come back out and we'll wait together?" He seemed ready to burst with happiness.

Pulling on a tank top but leaving the bra behind for now, she nodded and took the box. He brushed at his eye and then guided her to the bathroom like the most delicate China doll.

He stood there still when she opened the door. "Ten minutes, right?" He set the alarm on his phone. Then he set an arm around her waist and took her hand, leading the way to the bed.

"I won't break, you know."

"I know. Emma, you have every symptom of being pregnant. I've been restraining myself for a week. So sue me if I start pampering ten minutes before it's official." He plumped a pillow for her and helped her sit.

"Do not be like this for nine months or I'll strangle you." She offered a smile to soften the words.

A grin spread across his face and he glanced at his watch again. The man seemed to have no recollection to hide the scars. Then he disappeared into the bathroom and returned with the test, setting it on the nightstand within view. "Is your stomach doing alright? Do you need crackers or anything?"

Dread suddenly crept up. She flipped the test over to hide the results window. "Jason, I have a bad feeling. We said we'd wait a week more. Let's not look for a week."

Concern clouded his eye. "Emma, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought any of that up about chemical pregnancy."

"No, I want to know. When does the risk of miscarriage drop?"

"Love, there's always a risk. The highest is in the first eight weeks and then it greatly drops after week twelve once the placenta is established and the baby's heart beats. This would be the beginning of week five. We can wait, if you would like"

"No, but what if something goes wrong?"

He cupped her cheek. "Emma, you could spend the entire pregnancy worrying that something will go wrong. Whatever God wants to happen is going to happen. I don't want you to miss out on the joy because of what ifs. I probably should've died in the hospital after that mission, but you didn't stop loving me or pull away because of what ifs. Life is full of risks, and you've taught me that it's worth taking chances. If the unspeakable happens, we'll get through it together. But everything is going to work out." He brushed a kiss over her lips and sat back.

The worry would always be there, but he was right that the time couldn't be wasted because of what may never happen.

His phone chirped the alarm. He shut it off. "Do you want me to throw it away and we'll retest later?" The man sat quiet and patient.

Her heart beat faster as she handed him the test. "No. The father rarely gets to be the first to know." She braced for anything.

Surprise filled his eye and then love and humility, like he felt honored to be the one to tell her. He looked down at the test and swallowed hard. Covering his mouth, he drew a shakey breath and tears shimmered in his eye. It took him a moment to pull himself together. Then he looked at her. "You're pregnant." A watery smile spread across his lips and he turned the test for her to see.

She stared at the double lines. "There's two," she whispered.

He nodded, his smile growing each second.

Then she looked at him in shock. "There's a baby." She set a hand on her lower belly.

"There's a baby." He set down the test and practically jumped on the bed to stretch out beside her. "I love you." Then he pressed a kiss to her lips and slid down to unbutton her shorts. His lips pressed to her bare belly. "I love you too," he whispered.

And then it really sank in - when he talked to the baby. She burst into tears of joy.

Within minutes, he took her downstairs to break the news to Pete and Trudy having breakfast in the kitchen.

Trudy screamed and ran over, upsetting chairs in her haste rather than walking around them. "A baby! A baby!" The woman crushed her in a hug and cried tears of joy.

Pete grinned and shook Jason's hand and then caught hers around Trudy's long embrace. "Congratulations."

Then Trudy let go of her and jerked Jason down for a hug, pulling him down out of the shadows. "A father. I said this day would come."

Something about the scene flipped like a switch and became private and very tender between him and Trudy as he returned her hug at the low, awkward angle. He seemed in no hurry to end it. "Yes, you did," he whispered and held onto Trudy tight for a moment. It was almost as if Trudy had told him years ago to not give up because a happily ever after would still happen for him.

A few minutes later, he tugged her into his office and shut the door. "We should call Nana and your mother." He practically glowed in the dim room.

"Jason, do we want to be telling people? You said there's still a risk for a few weeks - "

His manner subdued. "You don't want to tell anyone yet?"

"I'm just nervous. Mama lost Dad and Nana lost Granddad and her son...I'm not sure it'd be good for them to find out about a grandbaby only to have it retracted in a few weeks."

Silence. "Alright. But if something does happen, they'd want to support you and it'd be good for you to have them." He took her hand again. "I'll walk you to your office, it's almost time for work." He remained somber.

She cracked a smile at her office door. "You're gonna go crazy not telling anyone, aren't you?"

He burst to life again. "Just Ms. Williamson and a couple people at work. And maybe a few people from research. Oh! And - "

She laughed and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Fine."

Between his hourly checks all day long to make sure she was comfortable and felt emotionally supported and then getting not much work done, she finally snapped at four o'clock when he came in again. He set his hands on her belly from behind when she stood sorting through files.

"For the love of God, Jason, the baby hasn't changed enough in the last hour for you to feel!"

He didn't seem the least bit offended. "You're so beautiful. I know it's just water weight, but you have a tiny bump and I like to think maybe a little of it is the ba...by..." His words faded when she spun around with a deadly look.

"You're saying I _look_ pregnant every month from water weight?"

His eye widened and he took a step back. "No, just that I know you gain a little water weight at this time of month usually, I mean..." He tugged at his neck collar and took another step back when her eyebrow cocked farther. "I don't think you look - "

"Oh, don't you finish that sentence." She dropped the files down on the desk and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm going to shut up now."

"Mm. Good idea. And while you're at it, no more touching this." She pointed in a circular motion around her belly.

His jaw dropped in disappointment.

She held up a finger. "Oh no. There's no need to be feeling my _water weight_."

"Emma, I didn't mean it like that - "

She set her hands on her hips. "Do you really want to continue this conversation?"

"I think I might end up dead if I do." He tugged at his neck collar again.

"Mm. Wise man." She sat down again and started typing.

"Maybe tomorrow I can feel the baby...?" When she looked up from under her brow, he took a step back. "Yep, I'm going." His voice came through the crack in the door. "Dear god, tell me these mood swings are worse in the beginning."

Trudy's laugh jingled. "I imagine the poor thing's body doesn't feel like her own. She's still adjusting to the news too."

"At this rate, I don't know I'm going to live until the birth."

He had nothing to whine about. She stormed to the door and whipped it open. "Then you have the kids. Let's put vices on your breasts, make you throw up and feel like you have to pee all the time, and get this weird aching in your uterus and see how you like it!" Then she blinked and burst into tears. "I don't know why I'm yelling at you."

He stepped forward with his arms outstretched, but Trudy intercepted. "Now, now, it's the hormone-ies. You need a break from him, don'tcha know." Then Trudy kept an arm around her shoulders but looked at Jason and shooed him. "Go work."

The man scowled. "She's my wife and it's my job when she's crying - "

"No one said she isn't yours. She needs some womanly time. Go." Then Trudy swept her into the office and shut the door, pulling her into her arms. "There, there. Your belly feels swollen and your breasts hurt somethin' fierce. The hormone-ies are making ya crazy like a bear. One minute you want him to hug and the next you want to cut off his guilty parts."

She pulled back and looked at Trudy in surprise through the tears. "Yeah."

"The doctor put me on hormone-ies when menopause got all messed up. She said it was like bein' full of child, and I can't say I envy you one moment right now. Warm compresses are good for on top and candy canes are good for the sick stomach. My sister swore by candy canes. I've seen you holding your belly. The ache feels better when you hold it?"

Brushing away the tears, she nodded. "It doesn't hurt, but it feels strange like a pulled muscle or something. And like I'm really bloated."

Trudy nodded. "I have a remedy for that too. Come. You can work upstairs from in bed. I'll have you good as new faster than a cow's milk." Trudy picked up some of the files while she grabbed the computer and then took her hand to lead her upstairs.

Jason paced in the foyer and looked up in concern on her way past. "Are you alright?" He ate up the distance quick as Trudy pulled her toward the stairs.

"We're going to see to her troubles. You leave us alone so I can get her comfortable as a lamb." Trudy didn't break pace.

She glanced at Jason over her shoulder at the top of the stairs. He watched, concern in every line of his face and he set a foot on the step, as if debating coming. But he stopped himself, perhaps because of Trudy's words.

Trudy unbuttoned her shorts and wrapped an elastic bandage around her lower belly.

"Oh god, he's right. I do have a bump!" The pregnancy tears threatened again.

"Because you're pregnant and you should have water weight coming on to support that baby, don'tcha know. Your body isn't used to having that little swell to support and it's making you uncomfortable. There." The wrap supported the underside of the small bump enough to make the ache subside. Then Trudy disappeared into the washroom and returned with warm rags.

Her cheeks burned as Trudy helped her off with her top and lie down. The sweet woman didn't bat an eye and laid the rags across her tender chest, offering a level of modesty. "Trudy, that feels wonderful." She sighed and closed her eyes as the wet heat sank in and ceased the aching throb.

"I'll go get you some candy canes. They should still be good from Christmas."

Keeping her eyes closed, she rested for a few minutes. Trudy's footsteps creaked the floorboard.

"You look like you're in perfect misery." A deep voice broke the solitude.

Her eyes shot open and she held an arm across her chest to keep the rags on for modesty as she pushed herself up in embarrassment.

"No, stay." He hurried forward and pressed her shoulders down until she relented. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, taking in the rags and bandage. "I wanted to make sure you're alright. I'm sorry about earlier. I sounded like an ass with the water weight comment, and I didn't mean a single thing by it."

She laid her hand over his on the bed. "I know you didn't. I overreacted. I do have a bump - "

"No, Emma, you look perfect. I don't want you worrying if you're gaining too much weight or how you look. It was completely insensitive of me and I wish I could take it back. I'm so excited to see the baby get bigger. That's all."

"I know." She cracked a smile. "I don't feel like myself and I'm overwhelmed. I didn't expect physical changes this fast. And I can feel myself get irrational but it's like I can't stop it and it's adding to the stress. But don't say that I'm being irrational because - "

"Because you feel what you feel and it's unfair to discredit that. I understand, sweetheart." He glanced at her belly.

"You can touch. I was embarrassed and didn't mean it." She guided his hand to the baby.

"Don't ever be embarrassed about me touching or seeing your body, sweetheart. I know that there will be a lot of physical changes in coming months that might make you feel self-conscious. But look at who you're talking to, Em." He offered a smile.

She smiled and set her hand over his.

"Does your belly hurt?" He stroked.

"Just achy from the bloating."

He kissed her forehead. "I'll let you rest. Here's you cell phone. Call me down stairs if you need me. Ms. Van Hoodie is going to stay. I'll be back after five."

 _The morning sickness grew worse over the next week, and it became impossible to button her pants. The weight gain came on so fast that she could almost cup her belly in her hands, finding any excuse to avoid Jason's touch. Him rolling over in bed even triggered her nausea, so he slept in his room with the door wide open every night._

 _During the night, a sharp pain cut up her side. She shot up from a deep sleep and held her belly, panting through the pain. It faded to a dull ache. Something was very wrong._

 _Slipping out of bed, she held her belly and padded into his dark room. The aching intensified. "Jason?"_ _She turned on the light. "Jason?" The tears welled. HE would know what to do. He'd make it better._

 _He rubbed his eye and blinked to adjust to the light. "Em? Are you alright?" Then he sat up. And his face paled when his eye landed on her holding her belly. In one swift move, he shot up and lifted her nightgown to feel her belly that fit in his hand. "Oh shit."_

 _"What's wrong? Why's the baby growing so fast?" The tears fell. He looked scared._

 _In a heartbeat, he scooped her up and laid her on the bed before palpating her belly. "Emma, I don't think it's a baby. It has to be a molar pregnancy - a tumor."_

 _"What?! What do you mean it's not a baby?" She shoved his hands away and sat up. And then gasped and grabbed her belly from another sharp pain. Red blood bloomed on the nightgown._

 _"Stevens!" He roared and scooped her up, running for the chopper._

 _The hallway spun and then everything faded._

 _Lots of shouting. Flashing lights. Jostling. She opened her eyes and hall lights flew past overhead. Strangers raced on each side of the bed, with Jason on the right._

 _Tears streamed down his face and he didn't wear the mask but instead surgical clothes. "It's alright, sweetheart."_

 _The bed lurched through doors into a surgical theatre._

 _Panic surged. Odd grunting came out when she tried to speak._

 _"The bleeding won't stop. They have to do a hysterectomy." His face crumpled as he held her hand._

 _She shook her head, the movement hard to do. "Ba...by..."_

 _"There is no baby, sweetheart." His voice broke and lower lip quivered. "We'll adopt babies."_

 _No chance of feeling a baby kick or Jason measuring the baby grow with his hands. Only a taste of what pregnancy would be like...enough to know the longing of what could never be. "Please." The whimper came out with a large tear rolling down her cheek. He could fix this. He was a doctor...the protector...the knight in shining armor who could right all the wrongs..._

 _The doctors dragged him away from the operating table and held the gas mask over her face._

 _"No, please, let me stay with her until she's out! She's scared and grieving." He begged, fighting as hard as he could to come back._

 _She reached out a hand to him and then everything started to grow dim as they scrubbed her belly._

"NO!" She shot up, her heart slamming.

Jason startled from his seat on the edge of the bed. Her bedroom. Dancing flames in the fireplace filled the room.

"The baby! They cut out the baby!" She clawed at the blankets to pull them back, to see the scar.

"Emma. Emma." He locked his hands around her wrists, forcing her to stop. "No one cut out the baby."

She stilled, blood roaring in her ears. A nightmare. It'd been a nightmare. The shaking eased. But he was crying.

Her heart stopped. The ache of being swollen was gone. In it's place was an...emptiness. A terrible calmness flowed. It wasn't blankets over her lap but a towel. A soft whimper escaped, already knowing what was underneath. "How..." Her voice broke. "How long have you been here?"

He sniffled. "Thirty minutes. I didn't want to wake you when you didn't seem to have pain." He cleared the tears from his throat and stroked her cheek. "I prayed that maybe you'd sleep through the worst of it. I called the doctor, and she said to just make sure you don't bleed too much."

Pulling back the towel, she drew a sharp breath. He'd lain another towel underneath when the blood had soaked through her shorts. Drawing a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat beside him. He'd been dealing with this for a half hour all alone. "I'm...I'm going to clean up..." She swallowed hard, the shock numbing the grief.

Without a word, he fetched nightclothes and helped her stand and walk to the bathroom. Then he stood at the door as she closed it.

She stripped off her clothes and dropped the bloody things in the sink before putting on fresh garments. Breaths came in gasps of threatening sobs as she rinsed the blood out. Red stained her hands and ran down the sink, like the last traces of the baby. Tears leaked out faster and faster until they melted into sobs. She dropped her shorts in the sink and frantically scrubbed her hands. Distantly aware of the insanity that took hold, she scrubbed harder. It hurt. But red wouldn't come off. Her nails. She scratched to get the goddamn blood off.

"Stop. It's your skin turning red." Hands locked around her wrists and pried her hands apart.

"Don't!" The blood had to come off. It was like some cruel punishment for having complained about not feeling well from the baby. She tried to jerk away from him, but he wouldn't let go. "Stop it!" It was her fault and the blood would forever stain her hands.

He slammed off the water and whipped her around, clamping her wrists and holding them trapped against his chest. "Stop it. You're tearing your skin." His eye flashed and voice hissed, anger barely contained in him.

The fight drained away, replaced by streaming tears.

"We lost the baby; I'm not losing you too," he growled. "If I say you're bleeding too much and we have to go to the hospital, don't argue. If I say to eat more, you do it. If I say to rest, you'll goddamn rest. Don't you dare hurt yourself like this." He gave her a small shake. "Understood?"

Bowing her head against his chest, she wept, letting the pain come.

His arms wrapped around in a fierce embrace, his body trembling from fear or grief or maybe both. "This is not your fault." His voice broke. "Do you hear me? This is not your fault. I love you." His shoulders shook from tears. He cupped the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her hair. "We're going to get through this."

* * *

"They haven't said a word to each other since it happened a couple nights ago. It's like they communicate without words, don'tcha know," Trudy whispered to someone in the foyer while she sat on the sofa curled against Jason in the cabin room.

The TV played, but he didn't seem to be watching either because it was about golf - a sport he'd never shown interest in.

"Emma takes care of his scars. He brings her meals and pain pills and actually eats with her, but they don't leave the cabin room. It's the strangest thing."

"It's called love. They're pulling closer to get through this." Nana's warbly voice answered.

She sat up. Maybe it'd been a trick of the mind to hear Nana - Nana didn't even know about the baby. But when she looked at Jason, he looked surprised too like he'd heard it. His eye had a permanent red rim from lack of sleep and crying every time she cried, which was only hourly now. She'd burst into tears when he'd been shaving this morning, and he now sported a five o'clock shadow at nine in the morning.

He untangled from the heating pad cord for her belly and disappeared out the door.

"Dr. Port, it's my fault. I called and told her because you're both just so sad and I don't know what to do," Trudy stammered.

"There's my boy," Nana cut in. "Come, give me a hug, you poor thing. How are you holding up?"

"Emma's in pain still." His voice grated from disuse. "She's on pain meds and the heating pad. I give her back rubs to help when she looks painful when it's coming time for the next dose." His voice broke on the verge of tears. "She's so pale and looks exhausted. Her blood count is alright, but she doesn't look well - "

"Deep breath, JJ. Of course she doesn't look well. Neither do you. I asked how you're doing, not for Emmie's medical history." Nana's voice took on a motherly tone.

"I don't know. I'm trying to make sure she doesn't get sick."

"You're a bad liar, JJ. You're hurting too."

His voice carried soft and sad. "There may not have been a baby, just an empty amniotic sac even. Sometimes it hurts more seeing her grief than anything."

"Is she taking care of you?"

"She lets me hold her, which is all I want. But she's insisting on taking care of the scars even when I know it makes her dizzy to sit up. She's so weak."

"She hasn't given up if she's looking after you. Walk me in to see her."

He entered with Nana on his arm, looking almost as old.

Nana gave a watery smile. "Emmie." She let go of Jason's arm and hobbled over faster to sit in the edge of the sofa.

She leaned forward and held on tight to the body that had shriveled over the years but brought just as much strength and comfort as it had thirty years ago. Fresh tears welled up, the pain new all over again. As she sobbed, Nana stroked her hair and Jason knelt on the floor and wrapped his arms around both of them.

"It'll be alright, my loves," Nana promised with her own tears falling. "It'll be alright."

She rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her up the stairs after lunch. Nana went to take a nap.

He laid her on the exam table for whatever he wanted to do, raising the head of the table a bit. It didn't matter why he'd brought her here - she was too tired to care about anything other than having him near. Then he washed his hands and returned, pulling down the waistband of her lounge pants. He palpated her lower belly as gently as possible, although it still caused some cramping. Pulling up her waistband, he then helped her sit up.

"I suspect your blood count is getting low. Instead of a few pricks, I'll put in an IV port." It was the first words he'd spoken to her in a couple days.

"I love you."

The man stopped digging out supplies from the cart and looked up in surprise. "I love you too." Hope flickered in his eye.

And it made the heartache fade a little. "Did I do something wrong to make the baby die?"

"God, no, Emma." He dropped the supplies in the drawer and wrapped his arms around in a strong hug. "It was one of those things that just happens." A kiss pressed on the top of her head. "You're feeling weaker, aren't you?"

"I'm so tired."

"Sleep, sweetheart. We'll get you fixed up." He cleaned up again and then drew blood from the IV line. While the blood work ran, he did a physical. "I don't know why the hell the doctor won't see you in the office," he grumbled. "Is the bleeding better than yesterday?"

"Same." Her eyes drifted shut from exhaustion.

She must've fallen asleep because when she opens her eyes, he sat in a chair beside the bed with an IV line taking blood from his arm and directing it to a big machine. "What are you doing?"

"Being a doctor since the moron on call won't be." The man looked spitting mad - a welcomed change from the grief and worry that had taken up residence on his face. "Your blood count is falling, but not enough that the hospital will give a transfusion. I'm not waiting until you're that bad. I called a former OB coworker from a research project. She agreed to give you oxytocin to trigger cramps to help clot the bleeding. The only blood type here who matches you is Nana, and it might put her in cardiac distress to donate. So, you're getting the next best thing - plasma." He practically spat nails.

A tired smile tugged. "My hero to the rescue again."

"I have half a mind to sue that idiot. Saying you don't need to come in," he muttered and stopped the machine to disconnect the plasma bag. Then he reached to hook it up to the IV pole over her head, but he couldn't reach being still hooked up to the machine. "Hold my arm in case you tip." She did.

His arm flexed rock hard as he grabbed the frame of the bed and yanked it closer, despite the brakes being on.

She cracked a smile. "A bit exhuberant, soldier."

"I'm pissing angry, excuse the French. There's no damn reason for you to be getting ill like this." He hung the bag and connected it to her IV before he turned on the machine to feed his blood back to himself, along with saline to replace all the fluid he'd donated. His large frame dropped back into the chair and he blinked hard for a moment, probably a bit dizzy.

Reaching out a hand, her fingers wrapped around his when he took it. "Jay? I'm glad you took off work and stayed with me."

"Of course I stayed, Em." He scooted to the edge of the chair, as far as the IV line to the machine would let him.

"Why did you eat with me? And you haven't been hiding in the dark."

That blue eye looked straight on. "Because you needed me more than my pride needed to be saved." Shame that hadn't been there the last couple days suddenly stained his cheek. "Do you regret it?"

Her heart twisted at what he'd given up without hesitation in a knee-jerk reaction to help her. When his gaze dropped and he started to sit back, her grip on his hand tightened. "What is it you think I'd regret?"

Pressing his lips together beyond the mouth bandage, his throat contracted in a hard swallow and he turned his head a bit to hide some of the scars. "If I've given you cause to fear me."

She let go of his hand and stroked his left cheek, holding his gentle gaze. "I regret that it took this for you to know how much I need you. This is what I wanted by the time a baby came." A tear rolled from the corner of her eye. "I wanted you - no mask, no shadows...just you."

"I'd give anything for you, Emma." Tears shimmered in his eye. "We're going to be alright, sweetheart." He leaned forward, his gaze on her lips.

Her eyes started to flutter shut, so hungry for his love to heal the pain.

But he jerked to a halt and frowned. He looked at the IV line that was too short, even with the bed right next to him.

With a weak smile, she pushed herself up. "Catch me, Jay." Before he could protest, she slipped off the bed onto her feet. And her knees buckled from being so tired and dizzy. She toppled toward him.

He caught her. "Don't scare me like that." Then he draped her across his lap to recline in his arms, having to make her face the scars because of the IV line in his other arm. His lack of neck muscle and the abundant scars prevented him from turning the burns away. "How to disgust a woman in two seconds history," he mumbled to himself in self-loathing.

She pretended not to hear. "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

The poor man had to lean back and turn his shoulders to make eye contact. He looked unsure if she was serious, like she couldn't possibly want a kiss after full-on exposure to his right side.

Grabbing his left shoulder, she pulled herself up and pressed a kiss to his lips.

All humiliation fled from his kiss. It was beautiful and gentle, with the vow to heal all wounds, in time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: Sorry for the delay. Daughter got scarlet fever and was almost hospitalized.**

* * *

The plasma donation worked wonders. She woke up the next morning with enough energy to try tackling the stairs. Poor Jason had gotten up several times during the night to check her, and now he slept like the dead on the other side of the bed. The stairs could wait a few more minutes, though - snuggling against his heat seemed more appealing. She spooned him and draped an arm over his side, careful to not wake him.

He sighed and laced his fingers with hers. "Mmm, so tired," he muttered in a thick voice.

"I know. Go to sleep." She whispered it so maybe he'd fall back asleep. Then she kissed his back.

"Feel...alright?" The poor thing sounded exhausted.

"I'm fine. Sleep, Jay."

His breathing slowed, the sound so peaceful and soothing and holding the heartache at bay for now. She drifted back to sleep.

She woke up when he rolled toward her in sleep. Brighter morning light filtered into the room, giving detailed view of the scars.

Automatic reaction said to turn around and not look, to give him privacy. But things wouldn't change if left to reactions. She studied the terrible marks, desiring to become as familiar with this part of him as any other.

After another half hour or so, his eye fluttered open. He stared for a moment.

"Hi." She gave a small smile.

He whipped onto his back.

She jerked in surprise.

"Sorry. I didn't realize I rolled over." He ran a hand over his face, his chest rising and falling at a quick pace like he'd been just as startled.

"I thought we weren't doing that anymore." The grief over losing that openness from him that he'd offered the past couple days brought with it a renewed pain of losing the baby too.

His eye sidled to her, almost like he wasn't sure what to think. "I don't want to get used to sleeping like that and have you wake up and get scared."

"So instead you choose to sleep on the scars when it causes you pain for them to be touched. How am I to learn to not be startled if I don't get to know what you look like?"

The man stared at the ceiling and released a frustrated breath. "You think it's a personal attack on you, but it's the complete opposite. I know why you screamed that night six months ago when you saw my face. I know that you were scared during the night, not expecting me home, and you were having a panic attack that it was Bastardshit."

She held back a smile at his pet name for Gaston.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "But you were looking at me when that terror ripped out of you. For five years, I've had people stare or recoil, and call me a monster or beast or a hundred other names. That was a face less mutilated than this one. I've had this face for less than a couple weeks - each week that passes, it heals with worse scars. _I_ don't even know what I will look like yet, much less how much worse it will get. You cannot undo five years in a few days, Emma."

A very valid point that took away some of the sting. "I wish I could." The whispered words hung in the air for a moment. She scooted closer, wrapped her arms around his, and draped a leg over him.

"I can't even tolerate seeing myself. I've subjected you to it enough the past couple days - "

Her fingers over his lips halted the words. "You speak nonsense. Hush and cuddle me."

His fingers laced with hers under the blankets. "Do you need pain meds?"

"Don't talk about it. I'm so tired of crying." She buried her face against his shoulder. The tears would stop if only she could melt into him and absorb some of his strength.

The man rolled toward her, caught her in his arms, and rolled onto his back with her on his chest, leaving the scars in all their glory. He looked up at her and his thumb brushed away the tears. "Let's go for a walk. If you get tired, I'll carry you."

"What about work?"

"It's Saturday, love," he said in all solemnness. "I think you lost track of the days."

* * *

She stood on his left in his bathroom, using his very tiny wall mirror to put her chopped hair in a ponytail while he rubbed moisturizer on his shoulder scar. The ponytail lightly tugged like someone pull it out and it came undone. With a frown, she glanced at him, but he seemed preoccupied with his shoulder. So she wrapped it in again. It tugged and fell down again. She dropped her arms and scowled. "Alright, is that you?"

He pulled shaving cream out of a drawer. "I certainly hope I'm me, or I'd want to know what you're doing in the bathroom with a shirtless man."

Cocking an eyebrow, she gave him a look.

A grin was his answer.

Third time. She put it up. Then an arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her against his hard chest.

His mouth crushed down and he tugged the hairband out, burying his fingers in the short locks. There was no sense of a need for physical pleasure, simply a need to love and play. When he finally broke the kiss, his heart pounded a bit fast against her chest and he guided her head to lay over his heart. He didn't break the hold in the haven of his arms.

"You were teasing me." A smile tugged, but she didn't lift her head.

"You could use a bit of play."

She pulled back. It didn't seem right to play yet so close to the loss, but that dark cloud overhead had lifted a little with his banter. She hopped up to sit on the chilly marble counter. "I get to watch you shave."

He shook his head with a smile and got out his razor and strope. "You have a strange fascination with that."

"It's homey and you don't let anyone else watch."

"Because it would be odd for Stevens or Ms. Van Hoodie to sit there and watch." The man sighed when she didn't move. "Well then, make yourself useful, lass." He set the shaving cream can in her lap while he whipped the razor across the strope to sharpen it.

The wise man seemed to sense that having a task would keep her mind off other things. She shook the can. "Why do you use a real razor?"

"Before the military, I used a typical razor. During the war, knives were more easy to come by than razors, so I got used to it. I suppose I could get used to a handheld razor again. Why? Afraid I'm going to slice my throat?" He cracked a smile.

"Well, yeah. Especially with the kids running around, if they bump you..." The words died as it dawned what she'd just said. Tears welled.

He set down the razor and stepped closer, leaning his hands down on the counter on each side. "Lather me up, sweetheart."

She picked up the can and sniffled. "You're doing this so I don't cry."

"I would not be up to such antics." He cracked an encouraging smile and brushed away a stray tear that rolled down her cheek. "I enjoyed it in the hospital as much as you liked doing it."

Squirting the cream on her fingers, she spread it over his cheek and neck, finding comfort in the prickly stubble as much as in the homey task and his intimate gaze.

"You're so gentle." His voice held a tender tone as he took such gentle care to rinse the cream off her fingers. "I wish I could feel you on the other side." Then he picked up the razor and stepped in front of the little mirror like he'd embarrassed himself. The razor glided up his throat.

"Is it healed enough now?"

The razor stilled mid-air and he glanced at her before resuming. His shoulders tensed. "You've seen it."

"But I don't know if it's still painful to touch."

"What good does touching do besides paint more gore to fear at night?" He didn't bark it, but his tone lost the tenderness.

"Teaches me to know it's my Jay."

He stilled, the words clearly striking a soft spot. The razor finished the last few strokes, and he rinsed off the shaving creme and dried his face. Then he stared straight ahead, leaning his hands on the counter. "How do you not recoil from something so hideous?" He whispered the words filled with so much shame and hatred.

Glancing to the wall where he stared, her heart stopped - he looked in the mirror at the scars. She touched the underside of his chin to coax him to look at her instead. "Because his kindness and love and protection make him beautiful. Give a dog a beautiful master who beats her, and she will know fear. Give a dog a master rejected by society for appearance who gives love and shelter and food, and she will forever be loyal to her master. One knows only what is taught."

"Christ, you are not a dog," he snorted in disgust and turned to leave.

"And you are not a beast."

That stopped him in his tracks.

She slid off the counter and stepped up behind him, his smooth skin and hard muscles gliding under her hands as she wrapped her arms around him. Pressing a kiss to his broad back, she rested her cheek against his warmth and closed her eyes. "A beast could not teach me how to trust men again, or show patience or kindness to children whom society has forgotten. A beast would not try to absorb grief to spare another the pain." A tear rolled down her cheek and trailed onto his back. Her voice faded to a whisper. "A beast would not carry me through the darkness when it hurt so much that my heart stopped beating."

His chest collapsed like the air had been punched out of him. He turned and searched her face, the walls inside him crumbling and caving in, reflecting in his eye. "A rose has no eyes," he breathed. "The world sees what you cannot."

"Perhaps, Jason, it is I who sees what they cannot." She whispered the words and cupped his sound cheek.

"There are those who would say you're insane at best then - who would publicly shred you apart and discredit you in every way imaginable." His fingers wrapped around her wrist, so clearly trying to hold back from leaning into her touch.

"Would you still love me?"

"I could never stop." That blue eye dove into the depths of her heart.

"And neither could I." Without breaking his gaze, she cupped his poor mangled cheek. His eye almost squinted for a split instant. "Does it hurt if I touch?"

He laid his hand over hers and moved it down a bit, closer to edges. His brow furrowed like he was on the verge of heartbreak. "I can't feel you at all anymore. Only pain." Terrible regret mounted in his eye.

She swallowed hard and tried to pull her hand back.

But he caught her wrist while his other hand held hers against his cheek. His breathing picked up just a bit. "No," he whispered and closed his eye. A tear rolled down his cheek. "Let me feel you how I can."

Her stomach dropped. It wasn't a tear from grief - it was pain. "Not when it hurts you." She jerked her hand away. And immediately regretted it.

His eye opened and the regret in his expression crushed her heart. He swallowed hard and his eye searched the floor. It was as if he tried to take rejection with grace.

She frowned. "Jason, I don't want to hurt you."

Grief welled from the very depths of him and spilled over in waves of devastation. His voice lacked the strength that had offered such strong support minutes ago. "I would rather feel you through pain than not at all." He turned to leave.

"But why? It's not like you can't feel me anywhere else. I can touch you where it won't make you weep from pain." She hurried after him and caught his arm, planting herself in his path. "Why do you want me to hurt you?"

"Every time you touch what others fear, it is better than a thousand caresses of pleasure. I would tolerate any pain to have you touch this and still see love in your eyes." He drew a deep, steadying breath like it took every ounce of strength to not run.

"Let me find where it won't hurt." She reached up, giving him time to pull away.

He turned the scars away but didn't otherwise move.

"Does it hurt if I don't use any pressure?"

Hesitation filled his eye that remained locked with hers. The moment the tips of her fingers brushed the lumpy flesh, his eye squinted a fraction.

Pulling her hand back, she bit her lip. "I barely touched. It hurts?" Her heart beat faster in fear of causing him pain.

"It's alright." He raised her hand to his face again.

"Tell me what it feels like first." She locked her arm to resist him. "Jason." When he hesitated like he worried an answer would stop her, she added, "I'll try again. Just tell me."

A quiet sigh made his chest rise and fall. "It radiates throughout the scarring in random bursts."

The nerves must be intact enough to fire in response to stimulation but lacked control over what to fire and just in the area stimulated. She touched the middle of his cheek where it had no sensation previously. The damaged muscle quivered under her single fingertip like it could sense something happening even though it couldn't feel it. It didn't seem to cause him pain, however.

His hand trailed up her arm to feel, and his expression faltered, perhaps expecting more area to be touched. "You don't...you don't have to, Emma."

Raising onto her toes, she cupped her palm over his cheek in hope of not causing pain and pulled him down. Her lips crushed against his. "Just you, Jay," she breathed and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just you."

And without hesitation, he peeled off the lip bandage. His arms wrapped around her back and tugged her closer. "I lo-ph you." The words swooshed out in a lisp without the bandage, but they had never been more precious. And his kiss did not falter with hesitation or self-consciousness.

"I love you, Jay. Does it hurt?" She tilted her head back to give him better access to her mouth.

"Don't sto-ph." He breathed the words against her lips. It was the first time he'd let every single wall crumble during a kiss, demanding more, and refusing to let the kiss end. His tongue danced with hers, giving no care for the embarrassment that his missing lip threatened.

Her heart stumbled with joy. His kiss grew wet as his lip refused to cooperate anymore. When he moved to stop to wipe his mouth, she pulled him closer. "I don't mind. Just another moment, Jay."

Bless his heart, he didn't stop.

"JJ?!" Nana banged on the bedroom door. "Is Emmie in there?"

He let go and held up a hand in front of his mouth as he pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her chin where he'd left it wet. "Sorry, I didn't mean to drool all over you." The dear man, who rarely blushed, turned beet red.

"You didn't drool, and I don't mind damp kisses." She smiled and took the handkerchief, reaching to return the gesture. It might make him feel like a disabled child, though. Her hand stilled mid-reach and she bit her lip, offering him the handkerchief instead.

He seemed to have read her mind because his eye crinkled in a light smile and he took the handkerchief. Then he turned his face away, wiped, and rebandaged his lip.

"JJ!" Nana sounded impatient.

"Coming!" With a grin, he turned around. The back of his knuckles stroked down her cheek in an intimate caress. "Well, are you in here, love?"

The man had far too much ability to send her heart fluttering, given the situation. She shook her head. Pressing her cool hands to her burning cheeks would hopefully remove some of the flush. Nana would have suspicions knowing she was still in Jason's room at this late morning hour.

He smiled to himself, as if pleased at her blush, before he slipped out the bathroom door. His footsteps creaked across the bedroom floor and the wood door groaned open. "Good morning, Nana. No, Emma isn't here."

Nana's voice carried into the bathroom. "Get her in the bedroom and get your pants off."

"I beg your pardon?" Jason's tone came out shocked.

The blood drained from her face. Here came another one of Nana's marital lectures. Age had definitely given Nana's tongue a bold edge.

"Emmie's sad, not dead. Does a woman good to see a naked man. Love is good for grief. And exercise is good for sadness."

"Are you telling me to ravish your granddaughter?" A hint of amusement entered his tone.

The woman snorted. "Not awake yet, JJ? No, I'm not saying to ravish her!" Her cane pounded the floor. "She's not healed yet. Woo her. A woman wants to know her man doesn't see anything wrong with her after losing a baby."

He cleared his throat pointedly. "Alright, thank you, Nana, but that was just a couple days ago. I don't think she wants to feel sexy right now."

An odd clunk.

"Ow! You could give someone a concussion with that."

Oh dear. She covered her mouth. Nana must've clunked him on the head.

"As dense as a rat you are, JJ. Sit. Emmie, come."

Busted. She peeked into the bedroom.

Jason sat on the bed - not making too much of an effort to hide the scars from Nana's cataract eyes - and Nana stood before him like a parent about to discipline a disobedient child.

She sat on his left with hot cheeks, and Jason's arm encircled from behind.

Nana hobbled forward and took his right hand.

She watched in dumb confusion as Nana guided his hand to her lower belly and pressed...against where the baby used to be.

Panic and grief surged. Not there - the horrible part of her body that couldn't do the one thing it was supposed to. She shoved and pushed their hands off and shot to the window to get away. Her chest heaved and heart pounded, as startled by her own reaction as Jason looked. The horror and panic had come out of nowhere, leaving shame of this ruined body in its wake.

Nana, however, remained calm like she'd expected nothing less and then looked at Jason. "Nothing wrong with her after losing a baby," she repeated and then hobbled out.

"Emma?" He looked so confused and surprised.

The humiliation and shame burned like a red hot branding iron. She couldn't take a step back, the panic nailing her feet to the floor.

He stood. Concern and confusion wrinkled his brow. "Emma - "

The moment he reached out a hand, she spun around and fled through the hall door. Tears blurred everything and then spilled over.

Nana glanced over her shoulder and turned into a spare bedroom just a few doors down the hall.

She stormed in after the woman and slammed the door. Nana stood with her hands propped on the cane, as if knowing Hell was about to break loose.

"Why? You had no right to do that." Every muscle shook. Tears poured out. Rage. Grief. Panic. Shame. The emotions all fought to get out on top. The words took a life of their own and ripped out of her throat. "You had no right!" Her own ears rang, the scream dwarfing Jason's former roars. She gulped in air to try to breathe through the sobs that burst out.

"I know." Nana didn't flinch. "But I also wasn't going to stand by and watch you discover these emotions on your own and pull away from him, while he has no idea what's wrong. The shame is normal, Emmie."

She thrust a finger at Nana, her body shaking with anger. "Don't you dare tell him." She hissed the words out of her raw throat, never before upset with Nana, much less furious.

"He already saw the shame. That man does not blame you and neither should you."

She sank to her knees and cupped her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. Once the shock wore off, he would. Nana had flung her into a Hell that she hadn't even seen coming. She rocked herself forward and backward on her knees, desperate for release from this crippling grief and pain that hadn't been there moments ago. "Why did you do this?" She wrapped her arms around herself. Things had been so safe with him. Nana had destroyed it - the lifeline she'd needed to get through this: him. Soon enough his blame and anger would've surfaced, but it would've been in a few more days or weeks - hopefully once she'd remembered how to breathe again without him. Not now. It wasn't supposed to be yet. To bear all of this alone and with his blame... Gut-wrenching sobs tore out, crushing until she leaned on her hands and knees to even breathe.

Nana stepped closer and worked her old bones to kneel on the floor. "It's the next stage of grief that would've come with or without me."

She pushed away those gnarled hands that had once held love and comfort. Even Nana had turned on her. Her body had failed to protect the baby and there was no escaping this hideous vessel that had caused death. And Jason and Nana and everyone now finally saw the same hideousness too.

"Emmie, you need each other so very much, my girl." She didn't try to touch again. "Now when you haven't pulled away from each other is when it will be easier to get through. You don't understand right now, but one day you will. I did this because I love you, my Emmie."

The door creaked open and rapid footsteps approached. He dropped to his knees to the left and his arms wrapped around in a fierce hug.

The horror of him touching the body that had killed his baby was suffocating. She twisted and pushed against his chest, the sobs uncontrollable.

But his grip only tightened. "I love you, Emma. It's not your fault. I love you." He pressed a kiss to her hair and rocked in a soothing rhythm.

"I,I'm s,sorry." The sobs made it hard to breathe, hard to resist him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and pressed a kiss against her temple.

"For w,what?" She clutched his shirt and arm, afraid to let him go. Not letting go would keep him from stepping back and realizing the terrible thing he touched.

"It could've very well been my DNA at fault. If you're laying blame, I get it too."

"But - "

"No."

Then she looked at Nana get up, and Jason reach up to offer assistance. "Nana, I'm - "

Nana leaned on the cane and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Hush, love. It's alright. Tough love is hard to take."

She leaned her cheek against his chest, the exhaustion from the tears catching up. Nana seemed to understand so much about this. "Did you...?"

That snowy white hair bobbed in a slow nod. "When your father was a toddler. I lost the pregnancy at three months. Your grandfather and I were both too bullheaded to admit we needed each other. The silence grew as fast as the hurt. A month after, he had a suitcase packed to move out, and I fell apart thinking he hated me for losing the baby. I tripped running down the stairs from the bedrooms when I found him packing. I fell and broke my hip." Nana held up the cane. "Crippled at thirty. No more babies. I couldn't understand why he didn't just leave me. I was too ashamed to talk and he didn't speak until the day after surgery when they made me try walking."

Tears welled in Nana's milky eyes. "Pain was not controlled as well in those days. I could barely stand. And then strong arms wrapped around me and took some of the weight off my hip. I looked up, expecting a doctor because your grandfather hadn't touched me in six weeks. It was your grandfather who held me. When he whispered that he loved me, I burst into sobs." A tear rolled down Nana's paper-thin cheek. "He was a bit like JJ - he barked and growled at everyone to get out, but once alone, he was so tender and loving. Turns out he thought I blamed him and he had even more guilt after I fell." Nana searched her eyes. "I did this to you because I knew where you were heading, Emmie. It's a hard, miserable road that you don't need to go down. I expect you to kick and scream and be angry, and JJ to hate me for it. But I know it's for your own good - the both of you. And I'm a stubborn old bat, so there's no sense in fighting me because I'll win."

Jason set a hand over Nana's on the cane, engulfing the small, gnarled hand. "We know you mean well, and we're sorry for your loss. I wish you didn't know what this was like, but I'm thandful that you know how to help her because I don't. I never would've understood what Emma is feeling until it would've been too late." He looked down at her in his arms and pressed a kiss to her hair. His mangled cheek rested atop her head.

"You remind me of my husband, JJ, which is how I know you're good for Emmie. You're both getting each other through this, although I don't think you realize it. You talk to her." Nana hobbled to the doorway.

"Nana." She pushed up out of Jason's lap and crossed the room. When Nana turned, she leaned down and held Nana, feeling like a little girl again. "I'm still mad." But so much of the fire had burned itself out. Tears warbled her voice.

"I know, my girl. And it's alright. I'll love you forever and ever." Nana held on with more strength than that fragile frame should contain.

She swallowed hard. The memory of their special phrase came back after all these years since it'd been spoken. The words had always been like magic as a child, healing any wound or fear. "And always," she whispered, finishing the sentence.

Nana sniffled and let go. "Go to your man before I blubber like an old goat." Those old hands gave a gentle nudge.

Jason's footsteps creaked the hardwood floor and his arm wrapped around, pulling her against his chest. When she buried her face against him and let the tears come, he whispered over her shoulder, "Thank you, Nana. You don't know how grateful I am for what you've done for her."

"She wouldn't have let me push this far if she didn't trust you'd be there to catch her, JJ." The tap of Nana's cane disappeared out of the room.

"I love you, Emma. We're going to stumble along the way, but we're in this together. Promise that you'll keep talking to me, even if it's to say that you blame me. Look at me, Em." His fingers tilted her chin up to meet his eye. "This is very important for you to understand. I don't not care, alright? I think this is harder for a woman because you have the hormones all over the place right now, and the baby was part of you. The baby was more of a concept for me yet, but you could feel the physical changes already. The baby was literally part of you. I don't want you to feel like the baby didn't matter to me."

Her lip quivered. "You seemed upset the past couple days, but today..." She bit her lip to keep from saying something she'd regret.

"Tell me. We have to be painfully open to get through this."

Her gaze dropped to his chest, finally registering that he'd put on a shirt at some point. "Today it's like you expect everything to be back to normal."

A deep sigh escaped him - perhaps resentment or frustration or exhaustion. "It's hard seeing you hurting like this, and I think you need to feel like there's something steady to hold onto."

The words stung like he thought she was at fault and making him feel like he shouldn't grieve. She opened her mouth.

"Men deal with grief different than women. Being strong for you is how I need to deal with this."

Her eyes flew up to him and the words died on her lips.

"I don't know how to deal with you suffering like this and not be able to do a damn thing." He ran a hand through his hair in distress. "I know how to beat the shit out of someone trying to hurt you or hold you in my arms if you're scared. It was hard watching you go through losing your father, but that's a natural course of life that I'd experienced and somewhat knew how to get you through that. This...this goes against nature to lose a child and I don't know how to get you through it."

"Just be there. Let me see you hurt. You don't have to have the magical fix. You can't be the protector all the time."

He sighed. That realization was a hard pill for him to swallow.

Later in the afternoon, she held his hand while walking along the mountain road. The grass didn't seem as green or the breeze as fresh. The cloudy sky seemed to match how everything felt inside.

"Do you?"

She looked at him. "Hm? I wasn't paying attention."

Worry created a crease in his brow. "Do you feel alright? You're so quiet."

With a half-hearted shrug, she stared at the paved road. Suddenly, she lifted up and stared at his back - upside down. "Jay, set me down!" She pushed up on his back to upright herself from being slung over his shoulder.

He deviated from the road and into an open field. "Nope."

"What do you mean 'nope?'" Her jaw dropped.

"No. Nein. Nay. Nie. Any other languages you need it translated?"

She leaned down and swatted his back. "Don't sass me."

The man just chuckled, plugging along through the grass without hesitation.

The bouncing and his shoulder digging into her stomach didn't help with practically being upside down. "If you want me throw up on you again, by all means, continue."

"Ouch. Saucy wench, aren't you?" He gave a firm slap on her bottom and then dropped her to sit on his hip like a child. A devilish gleam lit up his eye.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gave him a look, pushing away the inkling of pleasure whoever he'd give a swat as feigned discipline.

"You think highly of yourself to think I want to be carried by you." It felt good to release some of the grief as irritation and sharp banter - it didn't seem so wrong to banter if there wasn't laughing.

He grinned. "You enjoy taking me to task." Then he leaned closer and whispered, "And I know you enjoy when I spank you." His hand holding her up under the thigh moved closer to her bottom. One finger drew circles through her jeans in a taunt.

Pursing her lips, she lifted her chin. "We'll see how you enjoy a cold bed tonight." Her tone held more haughtiness than earnestness, though.

His eyebrow raised, obviously seeing through the facqade. "Ooh, you wound me, my dear. Well, if I'm in trouble, I may as well earn it." He dropped to his knees and laid her back in the cool, tall grass riddled with wildflowers. Without missing a beat, he captured her mouth and crawled on top, his hands shoving up her shirt as he nipped her neck and then sprinkled kisses over her chest.

Something about his gentle kisses and tender hands made some of the hurt fade away. Her fingers buried in his hair, and she arched up to meet his lips trailing down her stomach. It was wrong to want pleasure this soon. It was wrong to want him to touch what had caused death. But the moment he unbuttoned her jeans and flitted kisses over her barren belly, a soft gasp escaped. Her eyes drifted closed. Every sense zeroed in on his mouth, and her hands buried in his hair. "Don't stop," she breathed. His absolution offered such beautiful release from the terrible guilt. When his kisses kneaded harder, silent tears fell from the corners of her eyes. Oh god, he didn't blame and didn't resent.

He finally pulled back, replacing his lips with his hand stroking her belly, and looked down at her. "I wish I could make love to you, Emma." The whispered words floated through the cool breeze. "Come to me when the bleeding stops. The physician said it'd be safe for you then." His hand drifted up to caress her cheek.

She swallowed hard.

"If I can be brave enough to take you on a walk in daylight without a mask, you can come to your husband one night." A gentle smile touched his lips to soften the words.

"That's not playing fair."

"Ahhh, puts a crimp in your stubbornness, does it?" He smiled and leaned down, nuzzling noses.

"I wasn't really mad at you," she whispered.

The man kissed her neck and breathed in her ear, "I know. It's not a sin to laugh again."

She had no comment for that.

He sat up on his knees, pulled down her shirt, and buttoned her jeans. Then he tapped her shoulder. "You're it." He jumped up with a smile.

"I'm not playing tag."

"Fine. I'll be it." He disappeared beyond the tall grass.

Sitting up, she sighed. "Jay?" No answer. Standing up to see over the tall grasses, she frowned and looked around the field. Nothing. Not even grass moving besides the soft tug of a breeze. Taking a few steps forward, she turned. He couldn't possibly have already run into the woods several yards back.

"You're it!" Something touched her back.

She screamed in fright and spun around. The idiot trotted away with a smile and then ducked, disappearing into the grass. "Cheater! You can't use military stalking!"

"It's not stalking, it's survival skills," he called from the far left.

Turning in the direction of his voice, she put her hands on her hips. "That's still cheating!"

Arms wrapped around from behind and she yelped in surprise as he spun her in a circle. He set her to her feet but kept his arms locked tight so she couldn't turn. "I bet you can't catch me. I'll go slow."

"Oh really? And - " Biting off her own words, she wrapped a leg around his and twisted like how he'd taught for self defense.

The man fell like a ton of bricks, his hand cupping the back of her head as he tucked and rolled to break their fall. He came to a stop on his back.

She raised up on his chest with a grin. "Got ya."

"You sassy little cheater!" His mouth fell open in a half smile.

With a giggle, she shot up and scampered away.

"You'd better run, lass." He shot up out of the grass and tore full speed.

With a screech, she laughed and sped across the field as fast as possible. The wind whipped through her hair and blood roared as her heart thundered while her feet flew over the grasses and flowers. His laugh rang close behind. The burning in her thighs and lungs finally pulled her to a halt on the far side of the field.

His arms wrapped around, his own breathing not as labored. "You're trouble."

She opened her mouth for a sassy reply, but his gaze fixed overhead and his expression went dead serious. Every muscle in his body hardened with tension. "What's wrong?" Turning in his arms to look over his shoulder toward the road, her stomach dropped.

Two cars parked on the side of the road and people leaned out the windows with large cameras - cameras that could zoom across a field without a problem. Paparazzi. And he only wore the lip bandage.

A curse escaped under his breath and panic etched his face.

She cupped his cheek to force his scars away from the cameras. "Jay, look at me." His eye dropped to her for a split instant and then returned to the road. "Are we still on your land?"

"Oh shit, I didn't think anyone would come this close. I didn't - " His body trembled.

"Is this your land?" If so, there might be a way to make them destroy those photos.

"It's a public park." The words barely squeezed out of his throat.

"Let them take pictures." She pulled him down for a kiss, keeping his scars blocked from view.

He pulled back a hair but didn't lift his head. "Emma, there'll be gossip and slander with you in it. Probably some story about you being seen kissing a monster - "

"I care not a wit what lies they concoct." And her kiss silenced his protests.

His head jerked back a moment later. "They're getting out."

Looking over her shoulder, she heaved an angry sigh and took a step forward to go confront the slimeballs.

He grabbed her arm. "Don't. They'll just twist your words. I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone would come this far into the mountains. It - "

Catching his hand, she turned toward the woods. And jerked back when he didn't follow. "I can't. The woods are so thick and I have no depth perception." His chest heaved with panic the closer the paparazzi came. He ran a hand through his hair in distress and absolute panic welled in his eye. "The scars are so much worse. They haven't gotten this close before. They'll spin some horrific story about you being the sex toy of a demon - "

There wasn't time to be shocked or ask where the hell he'd gotten an idea that they'd write something like that. Grabbing his hand, she yanked him into the woods with too much determination for him to resist. "I have depth perception."

He was agile enough to keep up at a trot as she wove a path, using his directions on how to lose a shadow fast. "I think they're gone, Em."

She stopped and looked around, a little out of breath. Dense tree coverage blocked the view of the mountains.

"I'm sorry. I thought we'd be safe outside of town - "

"Hush, Jay. It's not your fault. Where are we?"

Uncertainty crossed his features as he looked around. "I wasn't really paying attention."

"Well, I guess if you gotta get lost in the wilderness, there's no one better than with a SEAL." She sat on a fallen log and lifted her hair off her neck.

"Except we have no water source and it's going to get dark soon. I'd rather not fight off mountain lions, wolves, and bears." He grabbed a low tree branch and hefted himself up. Then he stood on the branch and climbed up another level.

Her eyebrows shot up. "What are you doing? If you fall, your head will split open."

"We did too many twists and turns. The fastest way to figure out how to get out is from a bird's eye view." He disappeared into the branches.

"You idiot! Get down before you break your neck." She stood and set her hands on her hips.

"As inspired as I am by your confidence," his voice called from high above, "I've had to rock climb barehanded during missions. I can handle a tree. Ah! We're at seven o'clock south of home. Wow. We're far from the field."

"Keep track of where you are because I have no idea where north is."

"You need to learn some survival skills." His voice came closer and then he appeared out of the branches.

It took an hour to pick through the woods, but time flew with his teachings about wilderness survival. He finally looked at her when the road appeared through the trees. "It's another hour from here. Are you doing alright?"

She nodded and took his hand at the road when there was room to walk side-by-side again. When he flinched, she frowned and looked at him as he withdrew his hand.

"Splinters." He offered an embarrassed smile.

"Why didn't you say? Let me see." She caught his hand.

"I can get them out at home." The man didn't resist, though.

A thick sliver embedded on the outer edge of his palm, next to a thin one. Using the ends of her nails, she pinched the large one and eased it out. Tossing it into the grass, she went after the smaller one. It took some time, but it finally came out too. "There." She smiled and looked up. "I'm not without wilderness skills."

He smiled and admired the handiwork. "Thank you. The throbbing from that large one was beginning to drive me crazy."

Linking her arm through his so as not to disturb his hand, she rested her head against his arm. The sun had drifted lower and now cast a golden glow on everything. "Jay?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" His free hand rested over hers on his arm.

"When you're healed all the way, are you going to go back to wearing the mask at home?" Her stomach knotted thinking about it. There was something so special about him not wearing it. He tried to stay in the shadows with Trudy and Pete, but he moved about a room without care in her presence now.

"Of course. It's not fair to subject you to... You disagree?"

She looked up at his frown. "You should do what makes you feel comfortable at home, but yes, I disagree."

He gave a slight nod and offered his profile, his brow furrowed like he contemplated it. "We'll see what it ends up healing to look like."

At home, she let go of his arm. "I'm going to shower." She smelled like the outdoors in summer - and not in a good way.

"I got warm too." With a nod, he escorted the way to her room. When she stepped in the bathroom and turned, he folded his hands behind his back. "Is it too soon to ask if I may join you?"

Her face burned. He meant too soon to want to be that intimate again. She shook her head. "But, um, I'm still bleeding yet, and I don't think I'm supposed to use certain feminine products yet." Dear god, this was embarrassing.

He didn't seem the least flustered. "No, it's not safe to use tampons until your next menstruation." The man must've noticed her eyebrows raise a bit. "I practiced hospital medicine for a few years. I assure you it takes more than that to cause a need for embarrassment, love. It would not phase me to join you in the shower, but I shall leave you to your modesty." He caught her hand and bent over it, with a kiss to the back of her hand. The tender, intimate look in his eye left her heart fluttering. "I'll come back for you, my love." Then he closed the door with a soft smile.

It took a moment to collect her scattered brain and her heart to return to a normal rhythm. He would always come back for her. Then it dawned that he'd managed to keep her mind off the baby for a few hours straight. And she'd laughed when playing in the field with him. Everything would be alright.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Thanks for the well wishes for my daughter. She's got off antibiotics this weekend and seems to be doing ok. :)**

 **Thanks for the reviews, Guests, awed, Singingsilent, bookworm, YazminXD, HunterofLight123 and BonapartNumbercrunch.**

* * *

"Alright, thank you." He hung up his cell phone when she stepped out of the bathroom. His hair was damp from his own shower.

"Everything alright?"

A deep sigh. "A change in physician appointments next week."

The annual, massive physical exam that he had to go through because of the burn injuries. She sat on the bed beside him and set a hand on his back. "Do you want me to come?"

"Not really." He set the phone on the nightstand, got up, and walked over to the window.

"Maybe it's better this way. That's a lot of stress and tests to pack into one day."

"I cancelled the scan."

She blinked. "I thought you have to have a scan so they can monitor for lung cancer."

"I'm not having that much radiation when we're going to be starting a family soon. I'd rather not have a child who glows in the dark." His firm tone and stern look challenged an argument.

"Oh, let's see...put off having babies for what, three months so any affected sperm are out of your system, or becond a widow because you got lung cancer. Hm. I can't decide." She gave him a pointed look. "Call them back before they give it away."

"No."

Her eyebrows rose. "Jason."

"No! What, are you going to withhold sex until I go?" He snorted.

Folding her arms over her chest, she cocked her head. "That's a good idea."

His eye narrowed. "You wouldn't."

"I'm not the one about to turn thirty-five and wasting another how many months having children."

"That's not the point! I - "

"Call." She handed him the phone.

He jerked it away and stormed to the connecting door, holding the phone to his ear to make the call. Then he spun around. "You know what, next time, _I_ won't be in the mood for sex." Then he slammed the door.

She cracked a smile at the emptiest threat on the planet. "I do it for your own good, Jay," she said to the shadows and headed downstairs as his voice carried through the wall, rescheduling the appointment.

He came downstairs for dinner a few minutes later, snatching one of the plates off the counter and dropping a spoonful of spaghetti on it from the pot on the stove.

"Dr. Port, it's not spiced yet!" Trudy hurried over from the kitchen sink.

His look stopped Trudy.

She held up a fork from the stack in her hand where she stood at the silverware drawer. He swiped it on the way out. His office door slammed a minute later.

Pete looked over with wide eyes. "I pity the poor soul he's angry at. Whenever he gets that look, he's stark raving mad."

"Then say prayers for me." She set the silverware on the counter and pulled down glasses from the cupboard.

"Sweet Jesus." Trudy made the sign of the cross over herself. "Like a bull in a flower patch, don'tcha know." Then the woman opened a drawer and pressed a jar of peanuts in her hand. "Calms him down."

She cocked an eyebrow and looked at the jar, then Trudy, and then Pete.

Pete shrugged.

With a sigh, she took a glass of milk with a straw in it and the jar of peanuts to his office door. Then she knocked.

"I'm busy!" he barked.

"Jay?" She opened the door and peeked in. "You forgot your milk."

He shot up from the desk and turned away, holding a napkin to his mouth.

"Oh. Sorry." At least he was eating. Hurrying across the room to get back out so he could eat, she set down the milk and peanuts. Then she paused and looked at his back. "I know you can't talk right now, but I did it because I want you around for a long time. I know you're angry with me and it seemed like I was treating you like a child. You're so stubborn about your care that sometimes I will fight you tooth and nail if you need something. I'm not pushing for physical or massage therapy because not having them isn't lethal. Not having this scan could be."

He didn't move.

With a sigh of defeat, she turned and walked toward the door.

"I still remember what it's like to not have medical problems and not have people look at me like some kind of freak show." The emotion drained out of his voice.

Her heart ripped out for him before she even turned around.

Standing behind the desk with the bandage on his lip again, he pointed a finger at the desk in anger. "You will not make threats _ever_ _again_ if I make a medical decision about my care with which you don't agree. Do you understand?" He spat the words.

She blinked. "I won't, even in jest. But, Jason, you're supposed to have that scan. I'm your wife and have a right to protest if you need a test - "

He slammed his palm down on the desk. "And that is all! I will _not_ be disrespected by my wife!"

Taking a step back, she sank into a chair in disbelief. "I never meant it that way."

"And how exactly should I have taken it?" He folded his arms over his chest. The anger seemed to die faster than usual. "I'm not a child who needs my hand held, and I have the medical education to fully comprehend the risks and benefits of putting off the scan."

She bit her lip. Once again, she'd pushed him too hard. He had very valid points. "I'm sorry. I went about it the wrong way. But I'm not sorry for disagreeing with your decision or for saying so."

His temper faded. "I'm not asking you to not state your opinion - I'm asking that you don't shove it down my throat."

"Will you listen to me, though? You're so stubborn, particularly when it comes to your medical issues, that it seems like I may as well be talking to a wall if I don't shove things down your throat."

He unfolded his arms. "I may not want to hear it, but I do hear it. Sometimes I need time to come to terms with what you say." He sat in his chair, calmer and ready for discussion. "I was going to reschedule the appointment when you brought up being a widow...and then you demanded that I reschedule."

Her brow knit. "Because I knew you were going to argue it!"

That blue eye simply held hers, more patient than before. "Did you listen to what I just said? I was going to reschedule it when you brought up being a widow."

"Oh." Her eyebrows shot up.

"I know I'm a difficult patient. I'm trying to be more open about you being involved, but explain to me, don't shove. That doesn't mean I'll end up doing what you want, though. I don't know why, but this just really set me off tonight. I apologize for yelling at you."

"I know it's hard on you having so many medical problems and you just get tired of dealing with them. Maybe I'm neurotic about it all because I've only seen things go wrong and it's all still new to me..." Her voice broke and sudden tears spilled over. "But I get scared that something's going to happen to you. Like, what if this one scan is the one that would've caught lung cancer in the early stages when it could be cured, but skipping it slams down the mallet for a death sentence."

He got up and walked over to kneel at her feet. "Emma, I wouldn't truly fight it if these were to follow up on something suspicious or an actual problem was found." His hands held hers.

"But even in the hospital with your face you fought it every step - "

"Because arguing makes it feel like I have some control over it all, like it can be _my_ decision. I complied with every single thing in the end, right? Even the damn home health nurse." He brushed away the tears.

She sniffled and took the handkerchief he offered. He actually had complied with everything. "But the physical therapy - "

"Starts next week." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the calendar. Sure enough, Tuesday morning. "Some things I just need time to come to accept. I need you to not be like another doctor or nurse telling me what I have to do - so much of these injuries come with medical care or treatments that aren't options. Even my body fights me so often." He held both of her hands and searched her eyes. "I need you to not be another fight but my partner. I need you to _talk_ to me about the pros and cons of a decision. You can tell me what you want, but it needs to ultimately be _my_ decision." His finger caught a stray tear.

"If it's something really important, you'll do it, though?"

"Emma, have you heard of other burn survivors having a battery of tests every year?"

Come to think of it, no. She shook her head.

"There are very few people who have survived with the extent of facial injuries that I have. Physicians can get a bit excited when they find something rare. There isn't much data on the long-term health effects for someone with my injuries, so they have me in clinical studies. I did have that tumor in my eye socket, so I have to see a dermatologist every year now - the tumor likely came from altered scar tissue because of the fire. I don't fight that.

"Studies show that firefighters have an increased risk of lung cancer, so some theories suggest that someone with airway burns like I had could be at increased risk for lung cancer. But no data prove it. The scan is purely for research at this point, and I'm considering arguing for it to be every three or five years because it's a lot of radiation."

"Why didn't you say that?"

"I didn't get a chance too, and then I was too angry to add that detail." He offered an embarrassed smile. "You already know I have to go to an audiologist. The primary care physicians, dentist and optometrist are no different than you having to go every year."

It didn't seem quite so bad when he broke it down like that. "But you get so stressed and it's a lot of appointments - "

"Who would be excited about it?" He cocked his eyebrow. "I need to go to these appointments by myself because it's easier to handle the stress if I just shut down. If you're there, it's more real."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed. You make me panic when you get stubborn and argue your care."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "In this, we are not compatible. Let me have my tantrums before you stress." A soft smile touched his lips.

That won a small smile, and she reached out and stroked the center of his poor cheek where it wouldn't hurt him.

His smile grew as his hand trailed up her arm and felt her touching the scars. "It doesn't bother you to touch?"

"No!" A small laugh followed. "Stop asking me."

His eye brightened. Then he glanced at the peanut jar. "What are those for?"

"Trudy said peanuts calm you down when you're upset." She cracked a smile when he rolled his eye at Trudy's strange assumption.

* * *

 _Pulmonologist, nothing._

She drew a deep breath in her office and set down the phone. Another appointment finished without significant findings. Now the terrible waiting for him to text how the next appointment would go. She turned to the computer and dove into work to try to pass the time.

By late afternoon, her stomach started to unknot as more appointments passed without a hitch. And then the phone rang. Jason. She snatched it up. "Hi, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be home later than expected." He never said 'yeah,' and he sounded upset.

"Did they find something?" Her heart beat faster.

"Nothing major. I'll be home in an hour or so." He seemed...heartbroken.

"Jay, what happened? I'll take Trudy's car and be there in a half hour." She shot up and headed for the front door.

"There's no need to come." Silence. "He thinks I caused the miscarriage."

Her brow snapped together. "What? He doesn't know that! There could've been a hundred reasons, like you said!" She grabbed her purse at the front door, covered the mouthpiece and yelled, "Trudy! I need your car to meet Jason at his appointment!"

"Go! Go!" Trudy called from the kitchen.

She hurried out the door.

"Emma, there's no point in coming - "

"You wouldn't have called if you didn't want me there. Why is this idiot telling you this?" She got in the car and put the phone on speaker.

"Because testosterone is low and other hormones are messed up. It's probably causing sperm issues."

"Of course they're messed up because mine are." She buckled and hit the gas.

"I don't follow."

"Recent research suggests that testosterone drops and prolactin and vasopressin rise in men whose partners are pregnant. The male picks up on the pheromones. Throw in a miscarriage and the psychological aspect, and your hormones are probably messed up like mine right now."

"Are you driving? Don't go down the mountain at high speeds to hurry. There's no need for you to come. By the time you get here, I'll be heading home."

"Where are you?"

"At the lab for more tests. Then I go back upstairs to the primary."

"The lab takes forever. I'll be there before you're back upstairs."

His voice softened. "Why are you coming? The results are the results."

"Because you need support at medical appointments instead of trying to be all tough Navy SEAL doing them alone. These aren't easy, you're stressed, I'm stressed, and I want to be there for you, even if it means staying in the waiting room."

Silence. The stubborn man wasn't going to admit to being nervous and needing support for this. "Be careful driving. And if they do figure out its my fault...I'm sorry, Emma." His voice broke.

Tears stung. "It's nobody's fault, understand? You had no more control than I did. I love you. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"I love you."

She hung up. He took things so hard when someone blamed him for something. He still believed himself to have a pain med problem after the nurse last year had said he was killing his pain threshold - it turned out to be a serious postsurgical infection causing the pain. He already felt responsible for Charlotte's and Charlie's deaths. He didn't need some idiot telling him he was responsible for the baby too.

Twenty-five minutes later, she stood at his primary care physican's front desk. "My husband, Jason Port, is here. Is he back from the lab?"

"Ummmm...let's see..." The receptionist couldn't be any slower. Climbing over the desk and checking the computer herself might be faster. "Yes, it looks like they just took him back. Janet?" She turned to a nurse behind the counter.

The nurse led the way to a back hall and knocked on a door. Then she peeked in. "Your wife is here. Would you like her to come in?"

"Yes, please."

The nurse stepped back.

"Thanks." She hurried in and he stood, ready to catch her in his arms.

He held so tight. "I'm being such a coward. I'm sorry you drove - "

"Hush. You're not being a coward." She pulled back in his arms and stroked his sound cheek. "How is your face doing with the mask on all day?"

"One thing at a time." He sat and pulled her down in the chair next to him.

Oh dear. He must be having some trouble from wearing the mask too soon and all day. She opened her mouth but a knock sounded at the door. An older man in a lab coat stepped in with a laptop.

Jason did the introductions.

The doctor shook her hand and sat on the stool. He set the computer down and scanned the screen. "Well, I asked for fast results and they're back. Men's hormone levels fluctuate several times a day. We expect the testosterone to be higher in the mornings, which yours was. Your high levels are even below normal range, though."

She bristled. Using 'normal' and implying Jason was abnormal wasn't the best word choice, given how he struggled to feel accepted.

"Some of your other hormones are fine, but some are elevated. You mentioned erectile dysfunction occurred a few weeks ago, and hormone imbalance could be the cause. I would suggest we run more bloodwork over the next few days to see if things change because you don't quite fit the profile for low testosterone. Hormone therapy is likely going to be the best treatment, if that's the case."

She opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. Jason should be the one to make a comment first.

"Now, we lost an early pregnancy last week. Emma heard of researching theorizing that the partner's hormones are affected by pregnancy too - "

The doctor shook his head. "That hasn't been proven. The studies aren't that scientific, with several flaws."

"But it hasn't been disproven either," she cut in. "And the impotency - " She stopped and set a hand on Jason's arm. He might want to discuss things himself or in private. "Do you care if I jump in? I'm not letting this one drop."

He cracked a smile. "Go ahead."

She turned to the doctor. "He'd been hospitalized for two months and he's still adjusting to a new self-image, which by the way, the doctors and social workers did not warn either of us that it'd have the impact it did for him sexually." She glanced at Jason. "I don't mean that in a bad way."

"I know." His smile grew a little.

Then she turned back to the doctor, on a crusade. "I think that was a psychological adjustment not out of the ordinary. He's very empathetic and we just had a loss. He's been dealing with that and taking care of me because I had some complications, not to mention he seems to be taking my grief hard too. I don't think one day or week of tests at this time is going to show anything 'normal.' What he's going through right now is normal. Shooting him up with hormones at this stage isn't an answer, it's a band-aid. And probably a bad one at that because taking someone who has physiological changes right now because of psychological things going on his life is going to cause problems."

"Or it could help," the doctor interjected.

She dropped her hands and gave him a look. "You can't be serious. Testosterone therapy is known to have psychological side effects of mood swings and aggression, not to mention physiological side effects. How does that make any sense at all to put a man on it who is going through the emotions of dealing with a miscarriage? There are a slew of other side effects from hormone therapy too. And I don't really care for you suggesting that he's the source for the miscarriage. My hormones could be messed up, it could've been my DNA flaw, or a whole host of other issues, so I'd thank you to keep such speculations to yourself." She released a huge breath and sat back. "Alright, I'm done." She looked at Jason.

A smile shined through his eye, like he appreciated the jump to his defense.

"Well, Mrs. Port, I understand your concerns and your perception of the issues. It's very common for the spouse to feel protective in a situation like this."

That shot her temper up a notch. "I certainly have a right to be protective. And I stated facts, not just perception."

Jason set a hand on her knee, as if to silently warn to calm down.

The physician looked at Jason. "You aren't having libido issues lately?"

"No."

"What about depression?" The doctor studied the computer screen again.

"I don't believe so. It seems like normal sadness from losing the pregnancy..." He looked at her, as if for confirmation.

She nodded. "You don't seem depressed."

"Jason, what's your birth year?"

The physician released a giant sigh when Jason gave the date. "Well, that explains it." He turned the screen to them. "We have a new computer system and it's inverting the graph. It should climb and then decline, not the reverse." He set the laptop on the desk and clicked and typed.

She glanced at Jason, who seemed to understand what the doctor was implying.

"Here are the actual readings..." He shook his head. "Alright, testosterone levels are in the normal range. Hm."

With a frown, she glanced at Jason and then the doctor. "Is that bad?"

"No, no. Testosterone begins decreasing one to two percent a year after age thirty. Most men his age are in the mid-six hundreds, and he's just under, which is fine. I'd suspect you'd be slightly above normal. How interesting..."

Jason shifted. "It's never good when a physician says something is interesting."

"Those studies your wife referenced claim that new fathers have large drops in testosterone and estradiol temporarily, as well as a prolactin and vasopressin spikes. It usually takes months for such a shift. Your prolactin and vasopressin hormones are higher than average." The doctor turned to her. "Has he been more nurturing lately? More subdued?"

Looking at Jason for a moment, she nodded. "Your temper isn't as hot as usual. It's been kind of strange, come to think of it." She frowned and then a smile cracked. "I kinda like it when you growl." Leaning in, she pecked a kiss on his cheek.

He smothered a smile.

"I can't tell for sure based on one day," the doctor said, "but I'm wondering if you're having some type of strong response to Emma's hormones. Emma, would you let me run a hormone panel on you? I suspect your hCG and progesterone are still falling, but your cortisol is high in response to the stress."

Her smile fell dead in the water.

Jason spoke up this time. "No. She lost a baby, and you're not documenting the loss." And that simple, calm but firm act of protectiveness made the conversation hit home.

Each day would document the hormones returning little by little to normal when they should be going the opposite way. Little by little, all traces of the baby would fade away. The grief slammed like a truck barreling down the interstate. Tears burned. Dropping her gaze to her lap, every ounce of energy went into stopping them. Not here. Not in front of this doctor right in the smack dab middle of Jason's appointment. Jason had enough to deal with without adding in more stress. This appointment should be on the OB floor getting ready to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time. That random, painful thought forced the tears to fall. She brushed at her eyes. "Excuse me." She got up to go find a bathroom to sob it all out and pull herself together, but his hand caught her wrist.

"It's alright, Emma." He pulled her into the chair and tucked her head against his shoulder. Then he said to the doctor, "You can test me as much as you want, but she's been through enough." His cheek rested against her hair. "Shhh, sweetheart. It's alright. It's alright."

She choked trying to keep back the sobs. The pain just mounted and mounted, and being held in his safe arms made all the walls collapse. When the sobs finally melted into hiccups, she lifted her head. Tears soaked the shoulder of his shirt. She brushed at it and dabbed at her eyes with his wet handkerchief that had at some point appeared in her hand. "I don't know why I did that."

He stroked her hair at the temple and bowed his head to meet her gaze. His eye was a bit red too from crying. "Because you're grieving. It's only been a week, sweetheart."

She looked over her shoulder at the doctor's empty stool. "Did you finish talking?"

"We did. You're not coming back for any tests." He brushed a tear from her cheek.

"What about you?"

"Every other day I'll run blood work at home and send in the results."

Biting her lip that quivered again, she shook her head. "You're not being a guinea pig either - "

"I have to be checked anyways to make sure whatever's going on balances out again."

Laying her head over his heart, she drew a deep breath. "Do you feel sick or anything from the hormones being messed up?"

"No, sweetheart. Just sad seeing you so upset." His cheek rested atop her head.

"I was supposed to come to make _you_ feel better." With a sniffle, she brushed away more tears.

"Holding you makes me feel better."

On the way through the waiting room, people read magazines orient occupied on their phones. The front of one magazine someone read had close-up shots of several attractive men, but one was exceptionally handsome. Something about him was so familiar and yet not. Then it dawned. The shock stopped jerked her to a screeching halt. It was Jason smiling - his face smooth and untouched by fire. The headline splashed across the top of the magazine as some kind commemoration to lost heroes for Fourth of July.

His hand tightened in hers and he pulled, his long strides making a beeline for the elevators. Inside, he dropped her hand, hit the button for the ground level, and stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched.

She looked up at his profile. "I just wasn't prepared to see that - "

"I didn't want you to ever see that," he growled and stared ahead at the doors like willing them to open would work. The doors opened a few seconds later. Although he offered his arm and escorted out the front lobby and to the parking lot, the tightness about his mouth bespoke anger. He opened the car door and set a hand on the small of her back.

She slid inside.

He walked around the car and got in the other side after saying something to Pete. His finger hit a button and the windows all darkened considerably. The car, however, didn't start forward.

"Oh! Trudy's car." She reached for the doorhandle.

"Are you driving it back?" All emotion drained from his voice.

She frowned and looked at his silhouette. The mask lay in the middle seat. "No, I was going to give Pete the keys."

"You aren't obligated to be in the same car."

"Why would you say such a thing?" She frowned.

The intensity of his gaze burned even though his face couldn't be made out in the darkness. "I should think you need time to process what you just saw." Heartache and regret filtered through his tone.

"I don't know if you're exhausted from a long day or depressed because of my meltdown, but you're not making one whit of sense. There is nothing to process. I'm going to give Pete the keys and will see you in the front seat in thirty seconds." She opened the door and something grabbed the back of her pants waistband. She looked over her shoulder into the dark car.

"Now knowing what used to be, do you have regrets?"

"Do you think I'm that superficial?"

The rhetorical question gave him pause. "You have to admit that marrying me has made your life harder."

"Not any harder than marrying a woman who miscarried."

"That's not your fault." A hint of protectiveness crept in his tone.

"And neither are your scars. I hate that you've suffered and things are difficult for you, but in all honesty, I can't say I'd change it if God gave me a choice. From what you've told me, I don't think I would've loved the wild, slightly arrogant man before the fire. A gentle, honorable, strong man - who has so much compassion and depth and love - is the one I fell in love with." Scooting back into the car, she reached for the button he'd used to darken the windows. "Let me see how much the mask hurt you."

His is hand caught her wrist. "Let me see how bad it is first."

Searching the faint view of him in the dimness, she nodded and got out to give Pete the keys to drive Trudy's car.

She opened the door and sat in the driver's seat after trading car keys. Jason sat in the front passenger seat, offering his profile. "Is your skin alright?"

"Let's go home." The flat tone gave no indication. When she didn't start the car, he added, "It can be treated at home."

"Do you hurt? I have asprin in my purse..."

A half-snort, half-laugh broke the silence, and he ran a hand through his hair. "There'd be no way to take it anyways without a drink and choking like some rabid dog," he mumbled, the laugh slightly insane. "Ah, shit, it's just a goddamn fucked up day." Then he got out, pressing the mask on, and walked over to Trudy's car a couple rows away.

Pete walked over, his expression solemn as he signaled for her to roll down the window. "He asked if you're alright to drive home. He's pretty upset and needs the ride home to pull himself together, he said."

Dropping her head back against the headrest, she sighed. "Someone had a magazine of fallen heroes for a July issue. Jason's picture was on it - of before the fire. Idiot that I was, I stopped in surprise because I didn't immediately recognize him yet did. Pete, it's like every time I think we're making progress, we end up right back here with him pulling away."

Pete leaned a hand on the car roof to bend down at the window. "If I may say so, I think there's more to it. He's very worried about the photos the paparazzi got in the field and what they might say about you. On the way to the appointments this morning, he flipped into a bad mood. I looked it up, and the pictures did come out. Add in the appointments today, and I know I would feel too humiliated to face my wife."

With a frown, she pulled out her phone. "I'll kill them, I swear."

"When you go on a crusade, Trudy and I will gladly join," he growled and spun on a heel for the car. He walked with a strong stride, like a man not pleased at all and ready to protect a friend in need.

Photos popped up by the dozens online - closeup shots of his scars without the mask from that day in the field and her kissing him. Headlines were worse.

 _Fairytale Gone Wrong - Real Life Beauty and the Beast_

 _Billionaire Missing a Face_

 _Married for Money, Not Love_

 _Emma Port Insane to Marry a Monster?_

 _Sick Need for Charity to Kiss This?_

 _Freddy Krueger Sighting_

 _Alien Disguised as Billionaire. Seduces Wife._

Her blood boiled, making her hands shake so much that her finger bumped the link and it popped open the article. _Alien caught on camera impregnating woman._ Her jaw dropped. The lowlife's implied possession of sex photos! It would damage Jason's reputation and the Foundation.

Throwing the car into drive, she peeled out of the parking lot. Time to make some calls to a lawyer and find that reporter from California who had wanted to do a story.


	8. Chapter 8

She pulled in the drive before Jason and Pete arrived and parked the car around the corner of the house so Pete would have room to park Trudy's car. Getting out and slamming the car door, she stormed up the steps.

Trudy whipped open the front door. "Everything okay? I prayed to Jesus the whole time, don'tcha know."

"He's fine." She stepping in, dropped her purse next to the closet door, and stormed to her office. "Those damn bastards. I swear..." she mumbled under her breath through clenched teeth. "Dammit!" The cell phone to call the lawyer and reporter was still in her purse. Spinning around, she plowed into Trudy. "Sorry."

The woman caught herself. "What in a hootin' blowfish is going on? You come in here like a hornet without honey and without him. Is he in the hospital?" Trudy's eyes widened in horror.

"No, the damn paparazzi! Look at what those imbicils posted!" Snatching the phone out, she punched in the unlock code and thrust it at Trudy. "Look at this!"

Trudy's jaw practically touched the floor. "Those devils!" Trudy slapped a hand over her mouth. "I shouldn't curse, but poor Dr. Port. Why do they do this to him?" Tears shimmered in her eyes.

"I don't know, but I'm sick of it. Who is Jason's lawyer?" She strode to Jason's office.

"He has several for different things, don'tcha know. As stacked up like paint. What kind do ya need?"

"I don't know. Someone who can sue them for slander and make other papers take a second thought before they publish anything about him." Jason kept paper records of anything important. There had to be records of hired lawyers. She scrolled through her cell phone for that California reporter's number and dialed.

A man answered on the second ring. "David Henry."

"Mr. Henry, this is Emma Port. You called a few weeks ago about a story on my husband, Jason.'

"Hello, Mrs. Port. I'm surprised by the call. Are you reconsidering?"

She sat in Jason's desk chair. "I have a proposition for you. I'll convince my husband to do an exclusive interview - you'd be the first he's ever interviewed for. But I have one condition."

"I'm listening."

"You can't slander him. He gets to see what you have before it goes to print."

"That's two conditions."

Biting her lip, she glanced at Trudy, who wrung her hands on the other side of the desk and nodded in encouragement. "Take it or leave it. The offer expires in ten seconds. Ten, nine..." Her heart pounded. Jason would be furious.

"I want an in-person interview to verify it's really him." He jumped on it like a dog with a bone.

"Fine. Eight, seven..." Oh god, this probably wasn't a good idea.

"No 'no comment' responses."

"Alright. Four, three..." Maybe best to back out.

"Tomorrow at five your time."

"Deal. You know where to reach me." Then she hung up and released a huge breath. Holy crap. "Oh, Trudy, what did I just do?" She ran her hands through her hair. Jason would be furious. Livid. Maybe next week her ears wouldn't ring anymore from the fit he'd definitely have.

Trudy clapped her hands and practically danced on her toes. "Emma, you just pressured him into painting Dr. Port in a way that no one has. This is perfect."

"Except Jason will have my head."

"Hurry up and call the lawyer. This one." Trudy pulled open a drawer and pointed a name in a black address book.

She called the lawyer and then went into her office to wait for Jason's arrival. And the crap to hit the fan.

"How is she supposed to respond?!" Jason's roar tore through the house moments later, full of pain.

Silence. She frowned and hurried to the foyer. He couldn't be speaking to someone on the phone in that tone - he never used that angry, vulnerable tone except with herself or...Trudy.

"She doesn't care about flesh, don'tcha know." Trudy's gentle voice responded.

"What woman is going to want this after seeing that?! It's asking her to climb in bed with goddamn Quasimodo and _like_ it!" Anger fueled him, echoing his shouts throughout the foyer.

"Shame on you!" Passion filled Trudy's voice. "She would die for you. She stands by you in everything and has been tested and you won't believe it!"

She stopped just outside his office, instinct saying Trudy was about to reach him when everyone else couldn't.

" _You're_ the one driving her away. Every time she proves how much she'll sacrifice for you, you slap her for it!"

"Don't you dare accuse me of not knowing what she sacrifices by staying with me," he hissed.

"Do you have cotton in your head?!" Oh goodness, Trudy never back-talked him except when extremely agitated by his self-hatred. The woman wasn't going to back down on this one. "I didn't say that. That right there is what I mean, don'tcha know. She promised to love ya forever and then you slap her with saying she's being a martyr. I'll tell you what a martyr is! Saying the same thing over and over to get it through your thick head!"

"You will watch your tongue, Ms. Van Hoodie." The words dripped warning. He wouldn't actually adhere to it, but in a dark mood like this and being pushed to the edge, he might say the word 'fired.' The woman must've opened her mouth. "No one forces you to remain here, if it's so distasteful."

She blinked. Perhaps it'd be best to interrupt because they were both growing so hot headed that Jason thought Trudy meant it the wrong way.

"But I - " Trudy sounded hurt.

"You will return to your work and inform me when Emma returns, am I clear?"

"She - "

"Am I clear?!"

She stepped into the room. "Jason." It had been intended as a warning for him to calm down, but his face paled.

"How long have you been home?" The words whisped past his lips in horror.

Trudy stared at Jason with tears streaming, the poor thing looking like she'd do anything to take back the words that he'd misunderstood.

She set a hand on Trudy's arm. "Let me talk to him." The moment Trudy swept out and shut the door, she looked at him with his fingertips leaning on the desk. "I arrived before you."

He sank into the chair and swallowed hard. His eye searched the desk and his composure seemed to return.

"Trudy is trying to help - there's no reason to bite her head off. She did not say she doesn't enjoy working here. That woman loves you like a son and wouldn't leave you even if you offered her billions. You know it and it's why you feel safe to lash out at her when she's trying to knock some sense in your head." She sighed and crossed the room to sit on the chair facing the desk. He needed physical distance right now or he'd shut down. "You're exhausted from a trying day, and me seeing your picture was the last thing you needed. But I'm not sorry it happened."

He still stared at the desk like a broken man.

"Why don't you believe that I love you?"

"You don't choose whom you love. I don't question that you do - "

Sitting back, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I beg to differ. Attraction isn't always by choice, but you can choose to let yourself love someone."

That blue eye finally met hers with so much heartache. "I can't even stand to look at myself, much less how ungodly it's healing now. Now you know what was. How am I supposed to make my wife look at this?"

Pushing herself out of the chair, she walked around the desk and sat in his lap, draping her arms around his neck. He didn't move. "I think you should give me some credit. If we were switched, would you not want to look at or touch me?"

"Of course not - "

"Then stop, Jay. Take off the mask." She reached up and barely touched it. When he winced and pulled away, she frowned and bent her head to look at him better. His pupil was dilated. "Do you hurt?"

"I just need to lie down." He stood, easing her onto her feet.

Pushing for an answer would make him withdraw, so she took his hand and led him upstairs. In his bedroom, she turned to help him get comfortable.

"Alone, Em." It came out quiet and gentle.

The man needed to be touched and loved as much as she needed to give it to him, but he wouldn't admit it. She sighed and stepped around him to go.

His arm caught her waist just as she passed. He didn't move but seemed like he wanted to say something.

"What, Jay?" Slipping her arms around him, she stepped closer in a hug. Her cheek rested over his thundering heartbeat as her hands stroked his back to calm his nerves. He didn't seem inclined to speak. "It will keep." Simply holding him would make some of the love soak in that he so needed to feel.

"The mask being on hurts...but I can't get it off." A hint of fear tinted his voice.

Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard. The fragile flesh must be swollen and inflamed from abuse too early to be subjected to in this stage of healing. Another hospitalization this close would push him over the edge into depression. Drawing a silent, steadying breath, she put on a brave face and leaned back to look up at him. "Let me get Pete and we'll get it off." He looked as worried as her stomach, which already chewed itself.

He sat on a chair in the middle of the bedroom and she stood at his front and Pete at his back. The fact that he needed medical care so he wouldn't get an infection seemed to be the only thing keeping her knees sturdy as she pulled on gloves and handed Pete a pair, prepared for a bloody mess underneath.

"Gentle tension so we don't snap the mask in half and cut him," Pete instructed. "One, two, three."

She pried up the mask and eased it away from his face at the same speed as Pete, trying to tune out Jason's soft pants of pain. Leaning close to him, she peeked under the mask. Soaking off the mask might be better if it stuck because it'd adhered to skin. But it seemed to be coming off without causing damage. It finally released.

The entire half of his face and head where the hard plastic of the mask had covered he scars burned bright red in swollen irritation. No wonder why the mask hadn't come off.

"Oh, Jay." Setting her fingertips against the part of his cheek without sensation, she braced for it to be burning hot with underlying infection. It was only a bit warm, likely from the irritation. She glanced at Pete, who looked just as relieved.

"Do I have to go to the hospital?" He looked up at her with immense devastation and tears threatening. It would be too much for him to go back there, not to mention the incredible stress from a battery of medical tests all day. It would be enough to make him burst into tears and not care anymore who saw him sob like a frightened child. But he would go if she said.

Tears burned for his suffering and she shook her head with a watery smile. "No hospital."

His shoulders sagged with relief and his eye closed as his throat convulsed in a hard swallow.

"Cool compresses, not too cold because the scars will frostbite easily," Pete instructed and then left.

She smiled at Pete's concern and fetched a cool compress from the bathroom. When she returned, she draped it over the right side of his head and face as careful as possible because he grimaced. Even once it was on, his eye remained closed and lips pressed in a tight line from pain. She took his hand off his lap and tugged. "Come."

In her bathroom with the tub, she stripped his shirt and pants off and laid a towel across the tub floor. Taking a second towel, she folded it up like a pillow near the drain. "Get in and lie your head on the towel." Trickling cool water over the scars wouldn't hurt as much as the constant contact of a rough rag.

"Why?"

"Just do it. You'll feel better." She took the rag from him and knelt beside the tub when he laid down.

He had to bend up his legs to fit, but he didn't complain. "What are you doing?" His eye followed when she turned on the faucet to a slow stream and felt the water to test it.

"Drowning you." She rolled her eyes. "What kind of question is that?"

He cracked a smile. "What kind of answer is that?"

"A smartass one." She looked down at him and cracked a smile. Then she cupped her hands under the cool water and trickled a small stream over his forehead to roll down the scars. "Does it hurt?"

His brow furrowed a bit. "Everything hurts. It's not as much as the rag and the cold is numbing it somewhat." The tension gradually melted from his face. When she trickled two more handfuls of water, his eye shifted to her. "Em."

"Hush. Let me do this if it helps. Does it?"

"Yes, but..." His fingers wrapped around her wrist when she reached for another handful of water. "I saw it in your mirror. I'm not going to ask you to - "

"I don't care what the scars look like. It's just injured skin. I'm not sure why you're so squeamish. You are a doctor, after all." She bit back a smile and eased her arm free to get more water.

He frowned. "I'm not squeamish. I don't think it's considerate at all to make you look at this."

"And I don't think it's considerate for you to argue with a lady." She cracked a smile and raised her eyebrows in a haughty counter. It was a fine line to walk to nudge him away from self-consciousness and into a lighter mood that would let him accept help. And accept himself.

The man blinked in surprise at that comment, giving an opportunity for another trickle of water. The red inflammation seemed to be fading to a soft pink, at least. "I'm not arguing, I'm stating a fact - "

"A fact that you're more squeamish than I am when it comes to this. Yes, I know." She grinned. Another handful of water soothed the scars.

He frowned. "I didn't say anything about anyone being squeamish."

"And I never said anything about avoiding looking at your scars."

His mouth opened to argue, but her words silenced him. He closed his mouth and glared for a moment, obviously not pleased that he'd helped prove her point.

"Ah, my fierce, Jay. Someday you will accept the truth."

"Which is?" He growled like a disgruntled bear.

Leaning down into the tub, her lips hovered above his. "That I will never shy away because I love what's here." She set a wet hand on his chest. When she eased the bandage from his lip, every muscle in him tensed and his eye darted away in humiliation. "Let me kiss you," she breathed against his lips.

His jaw remained clenched shut, refusing to speak because of the speech impediment without the bandage, but his eye shifted back to her.

She sat back and continued with the water on his poor flesh, giving him time to consider the request. He would ultimately reject it, but it had to be a good sign that he even considered it.

"I can't ki-ph you like be-phore." The poor man's entire face turned red in embarrassment.

Holding his worried eye, she shook her head. "I don't care how, Jay. I just care that you do. You don't much anymore." She bit her lip and pulled her hands away. "Is it because of the baby?"

"No." He sat up and shut off the water. All the self-consciousness fled his eye like he forgot about the scars in exchange for concern about her. His hand wrapped around her upper arm as his other stroked over her hair. "No. It's ph-ealed..." His eye closed for a brief moment in humiliation when his missing lip couldn't form 'healed' as air swooshed out. But he forced himself to look at her and continue. "Terrib-phly." He swallowed several times as his mouth threatened further embarrassment.

Cupping his cheek in her hand, she swept her thumb over his lip to sweep away what threatened to overflow. "These are the moments when you trust me the most, and I wouldn't trade them for the world." Her throat tightened with welling emotion. "Let me have them. You bear so much. Don't let shame in front of me be another burden. If I can throw up on you and let you see me giving birth, I think you can let me see you without a mask and bandage. I promise that I will be far more horrified than you are right now."

His fingers stroked her cheek. "You will be beauti-phul."

"Mm," she pursed her lips in disagreement. "To each his own opinion."

That earned a smile from him. And he brushed a kiss over her lips.

* * *

"You _what_?!" Jason's roar echoed through his bedroom twenty minutes later...after she explained why he had a voicemail from a reporter.

She winced where she stood near the connecting door - as a route for a fast escape.

"Call him back right now and cancel it!" The veins in his neck bulged, even with the dimness of most the drapes in the room closed. He wore the lip bandage, which proved to be unfortunate because he wouldn't seem quite so angry with a lisp.

Oh dear. This wasn't going well at all and it'd been only thirty-five seconds. "It's a chance to paint you in a favorable light. If we cut off the paparazzi at the knees, there won't be the juice they want to feed the public lies - "

He did a lap around the bedroom in irritation and set his hands on his hips. "I can honestly say this is the first time I've ever wanted to wring your neck! How could you, Emma?!" The man stopped and threw his arms in the air. "I can't even wear a goddamn mask with how this is swelling!"

True. The mask probably still didn't fit over the inflammation in the morning. That might pose a problem.

"And did you consult me to see if I could be available tomorrow at five? No! I have a financial end-of-fiscal-year meeting with the board tomorrow all afternoon! I can't take that call on a plane while flying out to California for a damn interview!"

Oops. Goodness, his face grew redder by the minute. She'd really stepped in it this time. Biting her lip, she looked up from beneath her lashes - puppy eyes would calm his temper a little. Maybe. "I thought I was helping."

He pointed a finger. "No, don't you give me that look. You made this mess, so you can clean it up!" His hand flung out in irritation.

The man wasn't going to budge easily on this one. Raising her chin, she met his eye to do some hardcore coercion. "Then fly out to California tonight and have the reporter meet you at a hotel. You don't have to tell the Foundation you're out there. Call for a twenty-minute break in the finance meeting, do the interview, resume the meeting, and come home tomorrow night. You can dim the room for the interview. Your picture is out there now - he shouldn't be surprised if he sees your face, Jason."

His eyebrow rose. "That's your solution?" It was more of a statement of disbelief. "I just fly half way across the country because you made this mess? You're coming along."

"Me?" She blinked.

"You promised an interview, so you can help me stumble through it. I leave you alone for fifteen minutes and this is the trouble you cause." He growled and did another lap around the room.

Biting her lip, she braced for how he'd take the lawyer news. "Um, about that..."

The man stopped mid-stride on the other side of the room and his head whipped around. "Oh ho, no. Don't tell me there's more."

She winced and wrung her hands. "Well, I kinda called your lawyer about the slander..."

His face melted from anger to a slack jaw and wide eye. Speechless - not a good sign.

"I sort of asked him to send a lawsuit letter to the parties involved in those photos and the articles." She ducked, ready for an explosion.

That black eyebrow shot up. "'Sort of'? How do you 'sort of' request a mass lawsuit be filed?" He buried his face in his hands and his shoulders shook. Laughter bubbled up...insane laugher. "I don't believe it. Oh, they aren't going to have a field day with a billionaire filing a likely total of a billion-dollar lawsuit."

Oh god. The blood drained to her feet. That angle hadn't dawned. It wouldn't put him in a favorable light with the Foundation. Or the board. Or anyone. She darted to her room and grabbed her cell phone to call the lawyer back.

His hand wrapped around hers from behind, holding the phone hostage. "You can't order a lawyer to start a lawsuit on someone's behalf unless that someone is mentally incompetent."

She spun around with wide eyes. "So he hasn't done anything with it yet?"

"No." He cracked a smile. "He'll undoubtedly be contacting me for permission to move forward with it. Did you tell him that you're suing for your own slander?"

"No." She frowned at that odd question.

"Of course not." He shook his head with a roll of his eye and let go of her hand, a slight smile tugging his lips. "You go ripping into battle and forget about yourself. Next time you get protective and go all Chuck Norris, call me first."

She propped her hands on her hips, her mouth dropping open in offense. "How come whenever someone does something to me you can go all ballistic, but I'm not allowed to react?"

He smiled and tugged her close, his chest bouncing with laughter. "Because I don't call a newspaper to make it a national event and file mass lawsuits."

A poke to his stomach made him let go, but the smile still didn't leave his face. "You're chauvinist." She raised her chin in challenge.

His eyebrow rose in amusement. "Yes, I'm the most domineering, sexist man in existence." When she rolled her eye, he pulled her close again. His voice took on a deep, husky tone. "Tomorrow is Friday. Come to California with me for the weekend."

The miscarriage bleeding had stopped and he knew it. It was more than a weekend getaway invitation. Dread crept up - dread that shouldn't exist toward a husband. Taking a step back, she dropped her eyes. He might misread the rejection as stemming from his scars. The words would need to be honest and gentle.

"Forgive me, that was insensitive to have asked," he cut in before she could respond. "If you come, I vow to not touch you. I'll go pack and leave you to consider your decision. Should you choose not to come, I can return tomorrow or Sunday night." Then he turned and strode into his room, leaving the connecting door ajar.

Nibbling her lip, she stared at the connecting doorway. He offered a weekend home alone without even him. A weekend away in California with him would be wonderful - a break so long overdue. A chance to get away from everything. She walked to the doorway and peeked around the door jam.

The man laid an overnight suitcase on the floor and glanced up.

"I don't want a weekend alone, Jay." She set a hand on the door jam and rested a cheek against it.

"Then I'll return tomorrow night, sweetheart." He knelt and unzipped the bag, clearly misunderstanding the meaning but not resenting her for it.

"Is it wrong to want a weekend away already?" Guilt gnawed. He of all people would give an honest answer and help sort through this jumble of mixed emotions.

He stilled but looked up, as if surprised at her true reason for rejecting the invitation. A deep sigh filled the silence. "I don't know. Right now, I'd give just about anything to run away with you and leave all this hurt behind." That blue eye looked right through to her heart. "You probably want to avoid sex like the plague. I would've made love to you the next day. Not for the physical pleasure, but...my god, Emma, sometimes this instinct takes hold and I can't think of anything but making love to you to protect you from all of this. To drown you in love to wash away the pain." His eye searched hers with so much raw emotion. "I don't want us to forget the baby, but I wish the last two weeks could be erased."

Grief mounted in his eye, and then his gaze broke away to drop to the suitcase again. "All the literature that I've read on miscarriage says women take months to desire physical intimacy again. It's barely been two weeks. I shouldn't have asked." When his gaze returned, sadness filled his eye. "If you wish for a weekend away together, you don't have to worry that I'll bring up the issue again."

She stepped in and knelt at the other end of the suitcase. "I didn't know you felt like this. Just because you desire sex doesn't mean it's wrong any more than me not desiring it. Perhaps it's just how a man deals with the grief." Catching his eye, she set a hand on his arm. "I don't want you to not have what will help your grief - "

He shook his head and got up, walking to the window before turning. "No, you are not giving in to what you don't want. It was wrong to have said anything, Emma. I'm sorry - "

"No, it was not wrong." She frowned and stood. "You just process the loss differently than I. It's not bad - "

"It is when it's like I'm pressuring you for sex." He ran a hand through his hair in distress. "It makes me no different than - " His words bit off.

So that's what it came down to - Gaston. She walked over and set her hands on his chest. "You _are_ different than him. You wouldn't force me. The difference is it's my choice and you wouldn't hurt me. I don't want sex because I'm scared of getting pregnant and this happening again. It's not your touch that I deny. We used protection last time and this still happened."

His hands rested on her hips. "It's a risk with any birth control. We will be careful what time of month we make love to help. Short of abstinence or one of us being sterilized, I can't guarantee a surprise won't happen."

Pressing her lips together, she looked down at his white dress shirt. Anything seemed worth it if it avoided this kind of pain again.

"You do want abstinence." His tone remained mostly neutral, but a bit of hurt leaked through. He viewed making love as a way to heal - abstinence would be a painful pill for him to swallow. "Then we will abstain." To someone who didn't know him well enough to pick up on the nearly inaudible strain in his voice, he would've seemed fine with it.

She swallowed hard, everything a jumble of emotions. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. "Jason, I didn't want to bring it up because maybe in a few days or weeks I'll feel different. I'm sorry - "

"No." He set the pad of his forefinger to her lips and then tilted her chin to meet his eye. "You do not owe an explanation or apology in order to have your wishes respected. In most things, we compromise. That is not possible with this, so we take whomever has the most conservative boundary and respect it. I am not going to ask to make love again only because it's unfair to make you feel like there is a clock on this or pressure. Come to me when you're ready, whether it's a month from now or years."

She blinked in surprise. "You'd wait that long?" Intimacy would help heal his pain from the loss, and yet he so readily sacrificed prolonging his pain so she could heal.

Tender love reflected in his eye."I'd wait a lifetime if you asked, Emma." Neither regret nor resentment colored his tone. A kiss brushed her forehead and then he returned to his room.

Staring after him, she set a hand over her heart. He meant every word and would indeed follow through on forever if she but asked.

* * *

The helicopter ride proved to be a welcomed relief from the intensity of the earlier conversation. The whirling of the blades prevented much talking, thankfully.

A sun visor and the microphone hid most of his face as he flew west into the bright golden glow of the summer sunset. His blind side faced her, allowing ample time to study this gentle man, with the only interruption of his voice conversing now and then with the flight towers. One would never know by his manner that he'd just lost something so integral to healing his grief. If only one day she could be as selfless and giving as him. He taught so much about what it meant to love unconditionally. The saddest part was he still saw a beast looking back in the mirror.

Intense love rolled to a boil inside. If he wasn't flying the chopper, it would've been so easy to make love with him and not have a single regret. She set a hand on his knee, needing him to see these emotions coming back - these emotions that had seemed to have died with the baby.

His head turned, only the corner of his mouth visible. When she offered a soft smile, his lips pulled up and he switched the controls from his right to left hand. He held her hand on his thigh and then turned his attention back to flying.

Just like that, the desire to heal through making love snuffed out for no reason. Perhaps he hadn't seen the desire - it'd been so fleeting. Or perhaps he had but knew it wouldn't last. She looked out her own window, more confused than ever.

Two hours into the flight, he radioed for a landing.

"Is everything alright?" She frowned and looked out the window. This didn't look like the coast of California.

"It's growing dark, so we'll drive in from here. We have about an hour left."

He landed at an airport and helped her out as he spoke with one of the runway workers, who didn't seem to question the helmet and visor still on. When Jason pulled out his suitcase and swapped the mask for the helmet quick, she opened her mouth to protest because of the inflammation...until he gave a glance that begged to not have a scene.

A red Corvette pulled up to the nearest hangar a few meters away. The driver got out and hurried toward Jason, who pulled out her suitcase from the helicopter. "Dr. Port?" the man called over the whipping of the blades.

"Yes. I'll return it here Sunday at six." Jason took the car keys the man offered.

"Yes, sir. Let us know if there's anything else."

"Thank you." He pressed a fifty dollar bill into the man's hand, grabbed the two small suitcases, and then nodded for her to follow.

She blinked and then trotted after him. "Is this your car?" The hiss of the blades finally died down.

"I wish." He smiled and threw the luggage in the trunk. "It's a rental. I know my lady likes sports cars." He tossed the keys.

She caught them, her cheeks hurting from the grin. "No way! All weekend?"

"All weekend." He walked around and opened the driver's door.

"You drive. You hardly ever get to drive. We'll be on flat roads, right?" She handed him the keys.

"Are you certain?" He frowned in disappointment. "I got this car for you to have some fun."

Butterflies flitted in her stomach - he'd splurged on a car just for her. "I have all weekend." She grinned. He rarely got to have fun, much less with his own money. It would be fun just to see him enjoy it.

The man tried to hold back a smile as he got in the car.

Country boy could peel out on back roads, but he wasn't much of a city driver.

"You know speed limit is sixty-five, right?" He coasted along at fifty with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. She grit her teeth as another car swirved around and honked in the bumper-to-bumper traffic. "Honey, you gotta be a bit more aggressive. This is big city traffic and it's Friday night during rush hour."

"Maybe you'd better drive." The poor thing looked stressed as he pulled into the shoulder. He hopped out and she scooted into the driver's seat.

"Buckle up." She pulled on the seatbelt as he got in. Her heart pounded with excitement. Nothing like wind blowing and the vibration of a sports engine. "I'm gonna show you how this baby corners like it's on rails."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Alright, Julia Roberts. Show me what I got for the bargain price of one thousand dollars." He buckled.

Her head snapped to him. "For the weekend, this is a thousand?" Her jaw fell.

"It's fun to blow money sometimes." The man shrugged. "Let's go, Em."

After adjusting all the mirrors, she glanced over her blind spot and burned rubber.

"How is it you know how to drive sports cars?" The man seemed genuinely impressed with her skills zipping through traffic with a manual shift.

A refreshing wind whipped through her short locks on the highway along the ocean coast. Dad had spent hours teaching stick shift, but Jason didn't need to know. She smiled at him. "Because I'm FBI, babe." Then she hit the gas.

His laugh got lost in the wind.

* * *

"Turn right." He pointed at a small fork in the dirt road well after dark. The city lights on the horizon bounced off the night clouds, offering some aid to the headlights on the gravel road.

"That's going toward the ocean." She frowned.

"I'm not going to drown us." He smiled at the reference to her bathtub comment earlier that evening. When she rolled her eyes, he chuckled.

A beautiful beach house came into view - a wide garage sat beneath two stories of a large white stone house. Golden light poured out from massive portrait windows. It had a square, Franklin Lloyd Wright modern architecture that normally wouldn't have been appealing, but the small palm trees and tropical flowers on the balconies gave it beauty. A touch of paradise. A magical get-away.

When she pulled up, an older woman with a dark complexion and a long black braid came out the front door and down the long walkway with a smile. She said something in another language as Jason got out of the car.

He answered with a smile and walked around to get the car door even though she was already half way out and staring at the house in amazement. "Em, this is the housekeeper Mrs. Yannatou." Then he said something to the woman, apparently making introductions as he pressed his good cheek to the woman's in greeting.

The woman beamed and held out her hands, saying something in the foreign tongue. Then the housekeeper took her hands and kissed the air near each cheek.

Jason smiled and replied something. "She says you're very beautiful and I'm a lucky blockhead."

She blinked. "She did not call you a blockhead." A glance at the woman revealed her still smiling.

A laugh bubbled up. "A rough translation, but essentially, yes. She enjoys taking me to task." He studied her for a moment. "I should say you two have much in common."

"Brat." She poked his ribs with a smile.

"See?" He chuckled and said something to the woman. Then he nodded, the stress fading from him with each moment like it'd been left back in Colorado. "Go on. She'll show you the house while I get the bags."

Mrs. Yannatou waved to be followed and hurried up the long stairway to the front door. She said something and pointed at the ocean where the crashing of the waves broke the silence under the diamond black sky.

"I don't understand." She shook her head. The language didn't seem to be related to Spanish to even be able to pick out words here and there from high school Spanish class.

So the woman continued up the steps and into the house.

"Oh my," she breathed, her lips parting the moment she stepped inside. The inside had the same stone white walls. A cathedral ceiling stretched up in the living room, an entire wall of glass facing the ocean. Skylights promised breath-taking views during the day, or at night with all the lights turned off.

A sofa and other simple furniture sprinkled the room in various shades of vibrant blues, giving the feel of a Caribbean ocean inside the house. The focal point of the room - a large square hole of a fireplace embedded in the white wall - stood proudly on the left. It's golden light, however, didn't penetrate through the bright white lights of the room.

In the far right corner, a simple white kitchen nook sat tucked away with a panoramic view of the ocean. It didn't have a cathedral ceiling, though, from a room that sat above it.

The lights flicked off and the stars through the skylight and twenty-foot windows came to life. They twinkled almost as bright as in Colorado, and the fireplace cast a romantic glow over the room.

Then the housekeeper tugged her arm and said something, pointing to a staircase on the right. She followed, unable to look away from the living room yet. The room should've been plain and sparse feeling, but something gave it character. Pursing her lips, she held the railing and ascended the steps. Then it dawned upon reaching a higher view of the room. All the doors had a tropical wood-woven appearance, which picked up the light wood floor. The room had a perfect serenity.

Upstairs, a wide office stretched the length of the house and also had a floor-to-ceiling view of the ocean. A simple wood desk and office chair faced the white wall aimed toward the living room. A long string of short windows leaked in light from the living room. The wall behind the desk cradled windows that reached from waist-height to ceiling, offering a beautiful view of the beach.

Mrs. Yannatou said something and smiled with a nod, as if eager to hear what she thought.

"It's all so beautiful." Breathtaking, actually.

The woman led the way back downstairs and up a staircase on the left side of the living room. This room, long and skinny like the office, contained the most life.

The right white wall adjacent to the living room held a strip of small rectangular windows near the ceiling to capture the light from the living room skylights as well. The white carpet boasted large black roses and vines woven through, offering a gentle pattern that didn't overwhelm. A floor-to-ceiling view of the balcony overlooking the ocean ushered in more promise of light.

Along the left wall, a queen-sized bed centered into the room and drew attention with its red rose-colored blankets. Each pillow cover featured a massive red rose, somehow powerful enough to not seem too feminine for a man. Black drapes swept against the wall over the deep wood headboard, promising use for masking Jason's scars from light, if desired. Deep mahogany end tables adorned each side of the bed.

The wall behind the bed featured a painting of a red rose in full bloom - only the head of the rose. It stretched four meters high and more than six meters across. The painting seemed familiar. And then it stopped her heart. The red rose painting she'd made for his birthday last year was replicated to perfection. With the carpet and bedspread, it created a mesmerizing, enchanted sanctuary of a room.

This couldn't be a rental house. This has to be Jason's.

The woman pointed at the rose picture, then her, and then back at the rose with a grin and said something.

A warm hand slipped around her waist. She looked over her shoulder at Jason, who had an embarrassed smile.

He answered the woman. "She says I never used to smile. I sent a photo of your painting to an artist to replicate it here. If I had to be here alone while on business trips, I wanted a reminder of you."

"This is your beach house, isn't it?" She turned in his arms.

"Not quite," he smiled. "I've rented it when coming to California for work."

She frowned. "They let you paint the wall?" That didn't make sense.

"Do you like it?"

Turning around, she took in the room again. It was so different from the antique style of home in Colorado, but it had a quiet, modern beauty to it. "Yes, but aren't there curtains? What's to keep people from boats on the ocean or at the beach from looking in?"

He strode across the room and laid his palm on the balcony window. It darkened a bit but not enough to block the star view. Then he slid open the massive patio door. "Take a look."

She stepped outside and peeked in. Nothing. It could've been a solid black wall for how much it blocked. Her mouth fell open. "It's by touch?" Then she stepped inside again and laid a hand against the window. It didn't react.

"We have to program it to recognize your handprint. That keeps guests from accidentally activating it. Do you really like the house?" He seemed eager to know. Even the housekeeper seemed to hold her breath.

"Yes..." She wandered the room, taking it all in, and stepped onto the landing just outside the bedroom door. Another bedroom, less than half the size, held only a black guest bed in a white room.

"You don't sound too certain." His voice came from directly behind.

Taking a few steps down the stairs to see the living room again, she stood there. "It's just so different from what I expected you to like. I'm used to home, I guess."

"Too modern?" He seemed a bit disappointed.

"No, it's pretty, just not what I expected." She looked back at him a few steps up at the landing.

The housekeeper said something, but he held up a hand and shook his head. The woman looked a bit disappointed.

"Am I missing something here?" She looked from him to the housekeeper to him.

He seemed a bit embarrassed. "I was so certain you'd like it that the closing would've been tomorrow. I know we agreed to discuss large purchases, which is why I told my lawyer to wait for final confirmation after you saw it."

Her eyebrows shot up. And so did sudden anxiety. "You're going to _buy_ this? How much is this?"

"The sellers need to get rid of it and I offered a no realtor sale, so it's down to three point six million dollars."

She grabbed the railing to keep from falling over.

"That includes a quarter mile of the beach." He acted like they discussed buying a stick of gum.

"What are property taxes?"

"Thirty-five thousand."

Oh dear god. That was practically half of her annual salary.

"Em, if you would ever look at our account balances, you'd see we wouldn't even miss the money."

She shook her head. "I don't look because I don't want to know. Jason, that's a lot of money."

"Then you probably don't want to know how much our home is worth."

Talking about dollar signs this big gave palpitations. She sank onto the step. "Worth more than this?"

He snorted. "Obscenely." Then he walked down the steps and sat beside her. "I wouldn't propose something that would financially hurt us. This is an investment property. If you don't care to own it, I would propose that we buy it and can sell it for two million or more in profit within a handful of years." His hand slipped into hers. "I'll buy you a different house in Hawaii or the Carribean or wherever you wish instead."

"But I don't need you to buy me a big fancy house." She frowned and searched his face.

His gaze dropped to her hand that he pulled into his lap. "If I ever wed, I wanted to buy my wife a beautiful getaway home. A place where we could go with the children and escape the media. Some place close enough where we could just drop everything for the weekend and go at the last minute." Then he met her eyes. "You give me so much and hardly ever let me give you anything."

Her eyebrows rose. "I rather think the opposite is true. Do you like this house?"

"I will like whatever makes you happy."

She shook her head and looked around at the living room. "I just wasn't ready for this." The anxiety rose. A second house would make it easy for him to escape again for days at a time, just like after the honeymoon. Maybe this is where he'd gone. Then she glanced up at Mrs. Yannatou, who stood with a worried look at the top of the stairs. "She continues employment with the house, doesn't she?"

"If we purchase, she has agreed to stay on. Her husband is the groundskeeper. They've managed the property for ten years and are trustworthy." He searched her eyes. "Is it the price tag that distresses you?"

Holding his gaze, she forced the words to come despite the awful hurt that came with them. "Is this where you came after the honeymoon? When you left me?"

His expression melted into confused. "What do you mean when I left you? I came home almost every night but stayed away because I thought I terrified you. I couldn't bear to be away from you. At dawn I'd return to California."

She stared in appalled shock. "You what?" Anger bubbled up, but it wasn't fair to start a fight this long after when he'd been just as hurt. Looking away, she swallowed hard and held back the tears, the wound that was still healing. "I thought you'd left me. I don't want a second house because it makes it that much easier for you to leave. You question my devotion all the time, so why wouldn't you - " She bit off her words to calm down before she said something she'd regret. Drawing a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around herself.

Silence. "I know I hurt you, but...I didn't understand that you didn't know..." A deep sigh and he hooked a finger under her chin to turn her head toward him. "Look at me, Em." That deep blue eye dove into her. "In our wedding vows, I promised to never leave you. I do not break promises to you. I didn't realize that my fear of you leaving makes you afraid that I'll walk away." His brow furrowed. "I am trying to work on it. It's..." He seemed to think a moment about his words. "It's like an irrational fear that I know is likely impossible to actually happen, but there's still an intense phobia about it."

That made the most sense than ever before. She frowned. "Like how sometimes I have nightmares about Gaston getting out even though he probably can't."

"Yes, sort of like that. I can fathom why my fear seems insulting like I don't have faith in you. I never intend it that way. Sometimes I need extra reminders that it's an irrational fear because in the moment, it seems very real." The poor man flushed in embarrassment. "You are right that SEAL training works against me. I tend to shove away the emotions until they build too strong. Then I shove you away thinking I'll get them back under control if I push away all reminders of them. I recognize the problem and the pattern, and I think I was getting control over it during the honeymoon."

She nodded and set a hand over his in his lap. He'd never been so blunt about recognizing this reoccurring problem. It had to be an embarrassing and hard step, but he was doing it. "I'm not perfect either, Jay. I know I do things that don't help."

His hand turned over to hold hers. "But this has become a pattern that I don't want us to have. You've been more patient than a saint. It's grown worse since the scarring has increased. I'm thinking that perhaps I should try that online burn survivor support group again."

Stroking his hair, she leaned her forehead against his. "I think maybe it would be good for me to do it too. Sometimes I think I lose patience because I don't understand where you're coming from."

"You don't have to - "

"I want to, if it's okay with you. And I want to learn better ways to help when you're feeling so self-conscious."

He cracked a smile. "Alright. I think maybe I won't lose my temper so much either if I learn how to channel everything in a more constructive way."

She laughed. "You have a hot head, but you often can be reasoned with. Your temper doesn't bother me."

"Good because I'm not sure how to undo thirty-four years of a hot head." He chuckled.

That won a laugh. "Promise a second house won't be a means of escaping each other."

"I promise, Em. It's a way for us to escape together."

Forgetting about another presence, she remembered at the last minute and pulled back in embarrassment right before sealing the promise with a kiss.

Mrs. Yannatou said something.

He pulled her close again with a devilish smile. "She says she'll knock my 'blockhead' off if I don't kiss you."

She giggled in embarrassment. "You have a pattern of surrounding yourself with mouthy women."

The man just grinned. "I like strong-minded women. One, in particular, doesn't cower at all when I growl."

Her arms wrapped around his neck. "On the contrary, she enjoys your growls." Then she kissed him soundly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, Shadows11 and #HomeGirl! It helps to get feedback! :) The interview was going to be in this chapter too, but it's turning out way better than I expected, so I'm going to break it into the next. I think you'll like how Mr. Henry interacts with Emma, befriending while empowering her. :) I won't give anymore away. :)**

* * *

"Tell me again." His voice took on a husky quality.

Biting her lip in a shy smile, she glanced up from beneath her lashes. "You think I'm - "

"Acht." He held up a finger.

"I _am_ the most beautiful woman - "

"Creature. I distinctly recall encompassing all species into this." His arms locked around her back under the warm shower water.

The smile grew at his careful verbiage. "Creature in the world, and you love me unconditionally. You make love to me not for the physical pleasure," the smile faded in all seriousness, "but to witness the beauty of my soul as all the walls come down." She swallowed hard at the profound strength behind the words. "You'll give your last dying breath to protect me, your last smile to end my sadness, and your last wish for my happiness."

His finger hooked under her chin as his thumb stroked over her lips. "Tell me that you believe every single word and that you believe my love will only grow with the passing of time."

Swallowing down the lump that the deep sentiment his words evoked, she simply nodded and rested her cheek against his wet chest. "Now you have to repeat my words." When he started to pull away, she caught his arm and looked up. "You promised you would if I repeated yours."

"You tricked me in a weak moment - it doesn't count when I didn't hear the words before promising." The man gave a sideways look.

Tilting her chin down and batting her eyes, she summoned the best pout as possible.

"That is not fair!" But he laughed all the same. Then his smile faded. The words were hard for him to repeat, still on some level not believing them true. "I'm your hero - your protector, lover, and best friend. You..." He cleared his throat. "You want to see me because I'm beautiful. Because kissing me gives drink to your soul. Because touching me is like finding peace and love and Heaven."

She cupped his sound cheek, the other side so red and inflammed from the mask again that it was painful to even look at. "You hardly let anyone else see you without the mask. I don't want you to take this away, Jay. It's almost like another way of being intimate, another way of making love."

His gaze fell to her lips and his voice grew husky. "You know that I can deny you nothing." It was more of a confession than a statement.

With a sigh of contentment, she rested her head on his chest and listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat. It must be drawing close to midnight, but it didn't matter. Right here, in this moment, everything was perfect.

After a moment, something pressed against her belly. The poor man's body begged for release from weeks of unfulfilled desire, yet he didn't allude to it in the least or make any physical contact that she didn't initiate.

"Jay, let me. Just because I don't want sex doesn't mean you need to be uncomfortable." Her hand glided down to hold him.

His hands clutched her upper arms hard and his nostrils flared as his eye rolled back in desire, an obvious struggle to not react. Every muscle coiled with tension. "No," he gasped and clutched her wrists, holding her hands captive on her sides at shoulder level. That blue eye dilated to black with need and his chest rose and fell faster.

He wanted to push her up against the shower wall. Her heart fluttered - if a look could make love, his did. So much lust pent up in him. He'd want it hard at first until the fever burned out and would finish slow and tender. Her lips parted as a zing of desire shot through. Then it died, along with all interest in his nakedness for some reason. Her knees should be weak from having him want so intensely. Her heart should be skipping beats from his look of desire. But right now there was...nothing.

"I only said I would shower with you. I promised there would be no advances this weekend." His soft, hot pants grazed over her lips. But he released her wrists and stepped back out of the water. "Finish." He bit out the word.

She frowned. "Are you angry?"

"No. Finish because I need a cold shower." It came out like a command to a soldier, seeming to stem from sexual frustration rather than resentment.

A hot flush of embarrassment rose up. She looked around for the soap. He held it out. "Thanks." A glance as she lathered revealed his eye locked on her face, although his body seemed more and more aware of the soap skimming over her body. To anyone else, he looked angry as hell, but it was intense self-control that hardened his expression. A quick rinse and she took the towel he offered. "Okay, it's yours." As she stepped out, he turned off the hot water knob and twisted the cold one on full blast.

When he came out of the shower, his skin had a bluish complexion and goosebumps ravaged his body. She jerked on her nightgown but not quick enough, apparently, because all his efforts went to waste as he warmed up.

"Jay, it's not right to make you - "

"A man wanting his wife never killed him," he growled and snapped a towel from the rack and tied it around his waist.

"I never said I didn't want to touch you. Stop being a bear and come here." Jerking the towel off of him, she then peeled off her clothes and tugged him into the shower.

"Emma." He scowled as she turned on the warm water. "We agreed - "

"To not have sex. I know." She turned to face him again and bit her lip as the shyness crept up - he leaned his hands against the wall on either side of her. He seemed so powerful, so beautiful. A breathless sigh escaped. So damn sexy. Heat cursed through her belly and then flitted away again.

Desire flared in his eye. "If we do anything, you tell me the boundaries." His voice rumbled deep in his chest.

Letting him see her body for the first time since the baby had been hard enough. Too much shame still existed. "Don't touch," she whispered.

His brow furrowed in concern. "At all or sexually?"

Shifting her feet, she dropped her gaze to his chest. "Sexually." The word squeezed out of her throat.

The back of his knuckles stroked down her cheek. "I don't blame you, Emma, and I don't want you ashamed of your body. I won't touch you, but know that I do desire you." The gruffness fled his tone to be replaced by gentle tenderness. "We don't have to do this, Em."

She shook her head. "Waiting makes it that much harder." Then she reached up and peeled off the lip bandage, taking liberties that would've been asked first if it hadn't been for the pain bubbling up. "Kiss me."

Sadness for her pain glinted in his eye. "I lo-ph you," he whispered and then bowed his head in gentle kiss as his arms wrapped around in an embrace.

His tenderness intensified the grief. Turning her head away, she buried her fingers in his hair and guided his mouth to her neck. "Be rough." When he didn't change the pace of his leisurely kisses, it dawned that he hadn't heard without his hearing device or being able to see her mouth to lip read. A soft tug on his hair made him look at her. "Be rough."

Concern filled his eye, and he opened his mouth to speak. But she didn't want to talk about the hole inside her heart. She wrapped a hand wrapped around his need and stroked hard to force his instincts to take over.

A soft gasp and his hands let go of her to slam against the wall as his knees nearly buckled at the instant demand. His eye rolled back and he buried his face against her neck, his chest heaving against her breasts. "Sto-ph," he begged and caught her wrist, forcing her to still. "It's too ph-ast. I don't want to hurt you." He panted as his body trembled against her.

She raised her voice and spoke against his ear so he would hear. "You won't. Let me have control." Grief created a need to dominate him, to have control over what had never been controlled...like it would fix the helplessness of losing the baby.

He let go of her hand, as if understanding her need. His hands wrapped around her hips to brace.

Within seconds of handing over control, his body coiled rock hard and his hips rammed against her, almost crushing her against the wall. His choked cry of intense pleasure mixed with perhaps a hint of discomfort at the instant demand for release. His fingers bit into her hips. A couple more hard thrusts of his hips at her command and his body shuddered.

The moment his muscles began to soften and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, the walls crumbled. Protectiveness surged and a need to be tender with him to counter the roughness. Her arms wrapped around him. She stroked his back that still heaved from the after effects. "I love you too," she said in his ear and sprinkled kisses on his shoulder.

His arms slipped around in an embrace in response, his pants still too heavy to speak. The moment his breathing allowed, he captured her mouth. The tender, passionate kiss lasted longer than ever. Perhaps the shield of the shower kept him from worrying about his kiss being too wet, or perhaps his walls had fallen. But it was his kiss that ultimately comforted the aching grief.

* * *

"Let me help. It looks so painful, Jay." She set a hand on his back and looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

He grimaced as he used a tissue to apply more steroid cream to the scars. "I've got it." The last word came out as a slight gasp.

"We should've done this after your cold shower." Slipping between him and the counter, she took the tissue.

"I was a bit preoccupied with better things after my shower." A devilish smile tugged at his lips and he bent at the waist, offering her easier access.

Her cheeks burned and she focused on spreading the salve over the warped flesh. "Hush. I think you far too much enjoyed that."

"I don't mind a lady who knows her mind." He winced a little but didn't seem as painful as when he'd been applying the salve himself. The smile, however, readily returned.

Pausing, she searched his eye in suspicion before resuming. "You're so inflamed that it's pinching nerves isn't it? Poor baby."

The man took the bait and set his hands on the counter on each side of her to bend down a bit more when she neared the top of his head. "It hurts less because most of it goes numb from the swelling compression to the nerves."

She frowned in concern. "So it hurts worse when there isn't swelling?"

He gave a slight nod.

"And you exaggerated the hurt so I'd do this?" She bit her lip to hold back a smile.

"Y-, what?" He almost slipped with a 'yes.' His cheek grew red, giving him away.

She smiled and continued spreading the cream. This was a fast three-sixty from him not wanting her to look or touch. "You don't have to hurt for me to help, Jay."

His gaze dropped downward and his smile faded, as if embarrassed by being caught. Then he seemed to muster up the courage to meet her eyes again. "I shouldn't blame you for what you haven't done. You let me prove myself - that I won't be like Bastardshit. I shouldn't punish you for actions you haven't done. Never would I have imagined a woman would want to help with this." He gestured toward his face. "Much less want you to. Yet, here we are."

She smiled and continued dabbing on the salve. "What has gotten into you today? You're almost like a different man with all of this."

He sighed and his eye absently followed her applying more cream to the tissue. "In the waiting rooms today, I watched couples. It was easy to tell who were happily married and who weren't - the ones who were had a nervousness about them, like they were worried for the spouse there. They always touched each other at some point, whether it was holding hands or the man setting a hand on the woman's back as they left."

She stopped and searched his face. He had a deep seriousness about him.

"Then I looked at the solo people there, who overall seemed content enough to be alone. I realized that I wasn't content being there alone. And if I'm not careful, eventually I'll push you away enough that twenty years from now we'll be those couples who are married in name only."

"Jay, we won't ever be like that. I think we've been through the some of the toughest things we'll have to face and we came out closer. We've been married less than a year, but we've been through almost a lifetime of things together - from the trial, hospitalizations, Dad's funeral, losing a pregnancy..." She cupped his sound cheek. "Are you worried? Is that what this weekend trip is about?"

"Yes. And no. We needed a break. It was just too much. Do you want to be here all weekend?" A wrinkle formed in his brow.

She smiled. "I do. I say that we spend the weekend on the beach - " Her mouth clamped shut. He couldn't have prolonged sun exposure because of the fragile scar tissue. "Er, I wasn't thinking." A smile tugged the left side of his mouth. "Oh! We should bake! We haven't baked in forever."

His smile bloomed. "I can go on the beach with you, Em. Sunscreen and a hat, which you should use anyways."

She blinked, the next thought flying away. "You have a hat?"

The man chuckled. "Yes. A great invention. You should see one."

Rolling her eyes, she slipped under his arm to apply the cream on the back of his head. "I just never thought of you as the hat type. Sombrero?"

"Sombrero," he snorted and reached behind to catch her. "Come here, minx."

She laughed and wiggled out of his grasp. "Behave! I have to finish."

"I do too." He turned and reached for her again with a smile.

With a giggle, she darted out of the large master bath and into the bedroom, jumping up on the bed as he strode out. "I'm serious. You need this on." She pointed at him with the tissue in her hand but couldn't suppress the smile.

A mischievous glint shined in his eye and he didn't break stride. "After." Then he darted forward.

She screeched in surprise and leapt off the bed, her heart racing.

The man stood on the other side with a grin, taunting.

"You are being such trouble! I'll tell Mrs. Yannatou if you don't behave, and she'll yell at you." But the giggles wouldn't stop.

"I'm all aquiver," he drawled and took one step closer, clearly enjoying the chase.

She took a step back and held out a hand to keep him away, still not able to stop the laughter. "I'll hold you down to finish."

"Love, a threat is supposed to be something I wouldn't like." He smiled and then shot forward.

A scream of surprise and she spun around to run, but he caught her nightgown and tugged, slowing her enough that his arms snaked around her middle.

"Don't tickle!" She wheezed with laughter and let her legs go to drop her weight to get away.

Except the man had no trouble holding her up. "I won't tickle," he laughed. "What on earth are you doing?"

His laughter only spurred more giggles, and she curled up tighter to keep from wetting herself. When the idiot let go with one arm and used her as an arm weight for exercise, lifting her up and down, her body shook with hard, silent laughs.

"I am the Terminator," he mocked in a deep, Arnold Schwarzenegger accent.

That burst out more hysterics and tears streamed down her face. She pushed on his arm, unable to speak. Sweet heaven, he'd better shut up or get her to the bathroom fast.

He laughed and set her down on her shins, with her legs still pulled up tight in a ball. "Come with me if you want to live," he mocked.

She doubled over, her abs burning from laughing. Squeezing her legs together to keep from embarrassing herself, she struggled to get up. "Shut up," she wheezed and sank back to the floor, her shoulders shaking.

When she pointed to the bathroom door, he laughed and scooped her up. Thankfully, he deposited her inside the bathroom. Before he shut the door, he said with such a serious look in that stupid accent, "I'll be back, baby." Then he whipped the door shut in dramatics.

She burst into another fit of laughter.

He reclined in bed scrolling through his cell phone when she came out. "Have a thing for the Terminator?" The corner of his mouth twitched as he continued looking at his phone.

Jumping on the bed, she crawled on top of him to straddle his hips as he set the phone aside. "Yes, I have the hots for a robot with a stupid accent." She rolled her eyes and set her hands on his bare chest to balance as he slid down a bit more to get comfortable.

"Ah. Ay suppose there be no competin' w' tha' from a man o' flesh 'n blood." He fell right into a thick, heavy Scottish accent and his hands rested on her hips.

Her heart flip-flopped and heat pooled. "No. Especially not a man as weak as you," she sighed in false disappointment and traced a finger over his muscular chest.

"Ye saucy lass." His hand wrapped behind her neck and he pulled her down for a kiss.

She broke the kiss a moment later, propped her elbow on his chest, and leaned the side of her head in her hand. "Do I sound stupid?"

He blinked. "Why would you ever think you're stupid?" The accent faded and a severe frown marred his brow.

"Your accent is so pretty. I've heard other countries think Americans sound stupid and nasally."

His eyebrow rose and he frowned. "Americans have a harder annunciation, but you don't sound stupid or nasally. I like your accent." He stroked her hair.

She scrunched her nose in disagreement and looked down at her finger tracing his chest.

"Em?" His finger caught under her chin and drew her eyes back to him. "Do you think I don't like it?"

"I was just wondering." She shrugged and looked down again.

"Then give me a preview, if you don't believe me."

Her eyes flew to him in surprise. "I don't know any accents."

"Sure you do. Say, 'Ay will luve thee still, me dear, 'till a' t' seas gang dry.'"

She smiled. "Is that a poem?"

"Robert Burns." He patted her hip. "Let me hear your lilt, love."

With warm cheeks, she repeated the words.

"Hm." He pursed his lips.

"Didn't I do it right?" She frowned.

"No, no, you did. You practically sounded like a native. I don't like it, though."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

A smile touched his lips. "Even as a lad in Scotland, I never found Scottish lasses attractive." He rolled her over so he was on top. "American lasses, however, are another story." His hands buried in her hair, cradling her head. "I like my foreign, exotic woman. Your accent is perfect, Em." He pecked a kiss on her chin as a husky quality crept into his voice. "Have I told you that your short hair is delectable?" Another kiss on her collarbone.

She giggled. No one had ever used 'exotic' to describe her, much less a man. "Are you going to eat me?"

"Tempting." He nibbled her neck. "You are never to worry that I think you're anything but beautiful."

"Except when I throw up on you." She cracked a smile, able to laugh about it now.

His kisses didn't falter. "Even then. It hasn't deterred me."

Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him closer in a hug and let his weight press her into the mattress. "I love you, Jay. I don't want to go to sleep yet."

"We should so we aren't tired for tomorrow." He pulled back enough to search her eyes. "It's nearly one o'clock."

Ugh, the dreaded interview. "Are you nervous?"

He rolled off and laid on his pillow again, which had a towel draped over it so the salve wouldn't get all over. Then he scooped her closer to lay her head on his chest. "Only that he'll write something terrible about you. Stay the whole interview, Em." His arm wrapped around and he stroked her shoulder as he stared at the ceiling. "I don't trust that he won't twist my words and make it sound like I said something unkind about you."

She stroked his chest, the scar under her palm becoming so familiar now. "I know you wouldn't say anything against me."

"Just be there, Em. I don't want you to get hurt from this."

"I'll be there, but people will believe what they want. We'll be alright as long as we know the truth."

"Exactly why I want you present so there's no doubt."

She gave a one-armed hug of reassurance. It shouldn't have been a surprise that he was more stressed for her during this than himself.

* * *

"I don't give a damn what the emergency transport cost is, the heart-and-lung machine had better get there in the next thirty minutes!" He slammed the desk phone back in the cradle and resumed banging out emails on his laptop in his office.

She glanced over her laptop on the desk. He had insisted on sitting on the wrong side so she could use the more comfortable desk chair. Each hour closer to the interview danced harder on his nerves. An emergency surgery at the Foundation without the equipment arriving in time didn't help his stress.

The phone rang again. His teeth audibly grinded before he snatched it up. "What?"

Oh dear. That wasn't like him at all to answer like that.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He stood up and looked at his watch. His face reddened and his nostrils flared, his voice dropping to a dangerous baritone. "You are under contract and agreed to do this surgery...If you back out now, _you_ will get your ass there and tell the family in person that you have just signed their son's death certificate. He got put on life support this morning and will die without this cardiac surgery in the next two hours. They are goddamn pumping blood into him as fast as it's pouring out from the tear in his heart - " He looked at the receiver in shock and slammed it down. Then he picked up the cradle and phone together and slammed them down on the desk in a tantrum. "He fucking hung up!" The man did a lap around the office with his hands in his hair. "Shit. Oh, shit, Emma."

"So a teenager's heart tore and he needs surgery right now, and you're without a bypass machine and cardiac surgeon?"

"It will be harder, but it can be done without a bypass machine. It's not rocket science - I did it several times even in fellowship training. I just need a damn cardiothoracic surgeon! We don't keep them on staff because we aren't a cardiac clinic, and my surgeon just backed out!"

"Jay." She kept her tone calm and smooth. "I think maybe we should get in the car. We're just twenty minutes away from the Foundation. You have a licensed surgeon."

He froze and stared at her like she had two heads. "Emma, we are talking a beating heart with extreme precision required." He held up his hand with his thumb and forefinger pressed together. "There is no wiggle room for a one-eyed, washed up physician to go bumbling around without depth perception."

"No." She stood and crossed the room. "But your tactile skills are more advanced than most. The therapist even said that it's not uncommon in people with genius intelligence. This is a teenager, with a chest large enough to be cracked open and allow you to touch to determine the depth. I don't think this kid or his parents are going to complain about you cracking his chest versus doing robotic surgery if you can save his life. You do not have difficulty with depth perception when you touch what your target is. You've done this surgery before."

"It's been nearly six years!" His eye widened. "I cannot walk into an OR and just do surgery!"

"Why?"

"Because I can't see! I'm out of practice! I can't see!" He ticked them off on his fingers.

"It's suturing a tear and that's all, isn't it?"

"Yes, suturing in a dressing and then shut the heart, but it's not that simple!" He panicked not because he couldn't do it but because he thought he couldn't.

"Why can't another surgeon do it?" He needed it thrown in his face that he was the best or only choice.

"It's a moving target! It takes practice, Emma. It's like asking someone who's never shot a gun to bullseye a moving target!"

"A target that you have hit and know how to shoot at. Jason, you can do this. How many surgeries did you do before the fire?"

"Emma, I did not complete fellowship training!" He held his hands up to emphasize his words.

She caught his hands. "Jason, you did a residency in general surgery and cardio surgery. Look at me." Cupping his cheek, she searched his blue eye, dilated with panic. "What other choice is there?"

He shook his head with a heartbroken look. "He's not stable enough for medflight to another hospital. Even if he survives it, the family has no money so a hospital would kick him out within a day or two after surgery before he should be released."

"What about getting another cardiac surgeon to come in from another hospital?"

He shook his head. "It has to go through legal and too much red tape to make it in time. If we pull in another surgeon who isn't cardiac trained and the boy dies, the family could sue the Foundation and the physician and all the staff involved. Shit." His eye closed, as if realizing the doors were slamming closed fast. "Call our insurance agent and double check that my malpractice insurance is still in place. Then tell the lawyer to be on standby. I think I'm about to have my ass sued off and lose my license." He grabbed his cell phone off the desk and tossed her the car keys.

She stood alone at a glass window looking into the operating room less than an hour later. Jason stood in blue surgical scrubs amid a medical team at the operating table, only his height and broad shoulders calling him out from the sea of light blue scrubs under the bright lights.

He glanced up for a split moment behind the surgical mask and glasses that had a magnifier for the delicate surgery he was about to perform. Machines beeped and ticked and everyone prepared to go, adrenaline bursting in the room. All except Jason, who looked so worried.

'It's okay,' she mouthed and offered an encouraging smile, her heart thundering in nervousness for him. The moment he looked down and the nurse handed him a scalpel, she bowed her head and sent up a quick prayer. Jason wouldn't forgive himself if this boy died, whether it was Jason's fault or not.

When she looked up, he glanced up again at the same moment, as if needing to remember that someone believed he could do it. She nodded and set a hand on the window, wishing more than anything to be able to touch or talk to him. If he believed in himself, he would breeze through this. He had the intelligence and knowledge and skill. Now he just needed the confidence. The moment he took the bone saw, breakfast threatened to come back up. A lap around the small back staff hall calmed her stomach until the grinding stopped.

Jason didn't look up again. The moment he glimpsed that beating heart, something in him changed. He connected to it. He stood a little taller, his shoulders a little more squared. It was like everything else disappeared, and he moved with precision and grace like he'd been doing this every day for years.

His surgical mask flexed like he spoke to give orders. The assisting general surgeon and a nurse did something. Everything flowed in perfect harmony as they raced against the clock to save the boy.

She glanced at the large screen recording the surgery - a close up of the young heart where the blood pooled. The flow was too fast and obliterated view of the tear, despite the suction. Something wasn't right. There would be no way for Jason to see what to repair. Her stomach dropped as she stepped closer to the glass and glanced at the medical team. They semi-clamped the veins to the heart to slow the bleeding. It didn't work. The room broke into chaos.

Jason, however, remained calm. His gloved hand disappeared into the blood and when he pulled it back out, the suction removed enough blood to see the heart. But it began trickling in again. With two fingers of his left hand on the beating heart, his right hand used a clamp-like instrument to hold the needle and guide a suture into the heart. He paused for a split instant. Then he grabbed the other tool from the nurse to finish the suture. And his hands flew - he must've used that split instant to time the heartbeat as well as get a feel of the depth for his target.

She stared at the screen in amazement. The sutures closed with delicate gentleness, yet rapid and strong. Her eyes darted to him. He remained intensely focused, but even the staff around him glanced at each other. Everyone watched for several seconds as the heart pumped on it's own with the dissolvable bandage in place. No leaks.

As soon as he put the sternum back together and left the general surgeon to close, he went into the back room to remove the surgical clothes and wash up.

She hurried out the back hall and through another door to wait for him to exit.

Within a few minutes, he stepped out without the surgical clothes and instead in dark blue medical scrubs and the plastic mask for his scars. She threw herself at him in a fierce hug, with tears of happiness welling. "You did it, Jay."

Every bit of him trembled and he held a bit tighter than normal. "I have to sit, Em." His voice quivered.

"Here." She pulled him over to a chair in the hall, where he collapsed. When the poor man leaned his elbows on his knees and locked his hands behind his neck and drew deep breaths, she squatted in front of him and rubbed his back. It was like he fretted himself so much that he was on the verge of fainting. "Do you need some water?"

He shook his head. "Emma, I thought he was going to die on the table."

"He's alright. You did beautifully. You're an amazing surgeon, Jay." The pride swelled so much it hurt.

"I have to go tell his family." He pushed himself upright and set a hand on her shoulder to steady himself when she stood. "I don't think I've been this lightheaded since I proposed to you."

She smiled and wrapped an arm around him to be better support. "And look how well we turned out. The worst is done and it's going to be fine. Go tell them the good news."

He looked at her, more color returning to his face with each minute. "Thank you, Emma. I know you probably didn't feel well with the blood and everything, but I would've panicked if I hadn't seen you."

She smiled. "The only part that bothered me actually was the saw."

A smile finally peeked through. "A doctor in the making?"

"No!" She laughed. "You can have all the blood."

He looked down at his scrubs with dark sweat stains. "Probably doesn't look good to look like I was panicking during surgery. I'll be right back." The man slipped back into the room and returned in a white, generic physician coat over the scrubs. "Better?"

Oh my. It suited him - more than a suit. This was where he belonged. Something inside wrenched at the thought of him not being home all the time. Of not being able to pop into his office across from hers and see him sitting at the desk, or escape with him to the bedroom at lunch in a moment of heated passion together. He had missed this and, after getting a taste of it again, something in him came to life. "Better," she whispered and swallowed hard as she smoothed out a kink in the collar. Then she stepped back, forcing a smile. The pride and heartache each weighed equally, one not able to overpower the other.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." He pressed a kiss to her hair, seeming unaware of the turmoil inside.

She turned and watched him go down the hall, nodding to staff who greeted him in surprise. He fit here. He had built this empire that had become so much a part of him. He already had the respect of the staff, and many families probably wouldn't question the mask because of their gratefulness for the free care. Children accepted more readily than adults, and the regulars here adored him. He didn't know it, but buying the house had been Fate giving a nudge toward where he was meant to be - here.

* * *

"Is everything alright? You've been quiet since the hospital." He wore his suit again on the way home from the hospital.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter. How to bring this up without making him feel like he shouldn't do what he loved? "Yeah." She closed her mouth, having intended to launch into a big conversation but chickening out for fear of his answer at the last minute. Pressing the gas pedal a little more, the wind prevented any further conversation. Just a little more time to brace for it so he wouldn't feel guilted into not practicing medicine again.

Giving a quick, reassuring smile as she popped out of the car before he could come around and open the door, she hurried up the front steps. He kept up and looked like he noticed something was off. "I'm gonna catch up on work so maybe I don't need to work late." Then she darted upstairs and into the office. He didn't follow. She sank into the chair. Thankfully, there were several emails to answer as a distraction.

By mid-afternoon a couple hours later, she spread out papers on the desk to do mindless busywork of piecing the financial fraud transactions together for a new case.

Jason came in and walked over. "Em, do you want to talk about it when you get a break or after work?"

"Talk about what?" She kept the tone lighthearted but locked her eyes on shifting around the papers.

"The hospital. When I came out in the lab coat, you looked so sad for a moment." He sounded like he felt guilty.

"I wasn't sad," she snorted. "It was just such a relief to see everything was okay and that you were okay." She moved another paper to keep distracted.

"You still aren't a good liar. I'll come back after work." He turned to go.

She swallowed hard but forced up a fresh wave of strength because he deserved to have a chance to do what would make him happy. "You fit there, Jason. And you're a gifted surgeon." Keep busy. She pulled out another stack of papers and began organizing them into piles.

"I need to talk to you after work, and the interview has been rescheduled to nine tonight here." His voice changed from concerned to serious and a tad distressed.

She looked up with a frown. "Did something happen with the boy?"

"No, he's fine and awake in ICU. I pushed back the interview. I'll talk to you about the other issue this evening." He glanced at the papers spread across the desk, almost like he wished to talk now.

"We can talk if you want. I just need to separate these into categories."

He walked over and held out his hand. "I need busy work too."

Certainly stressed, the poor man. She handed him a stack and explained what goes in what piles.

"I received a call from the medical director, who spoke with the board. They want to create a position for me on staff." He stood beside her and began sorting.

"Oh. That's wonderful...isn't it?" He didn't look happy.

A long-winded sigh interrupted the silence. "One successful surgery doesn't make a good surgeon. It was luck."

"Or skill," she cut in.

The man gave her a look and continued. "Besides depth perception, I can't use a stethoscope."

"There are ones with a speaker."

His eyebrow rose and he gave her a pointed look. "You're not really helping my case."

She shrugged and sorted more papers. "I'm just pointing out the workarounds."

Another sigh. Then he continued sorting. "I can't crack open every chest just because I can't see. Most surgeries can be robotically done."

"And something tells me that you lied that you're thirty-four if you've never used a robot."

"But it was six years ago and I had two eyes!" He flung up his hand.

Keeping her gaze on the papers, she replied with utter calmness. "You're an intelligent man. Practice on cadavers. Your brain will learn how to judge."

"Emma," he growled.

"Jason, you're looking for excuses." She sat back and looked up at him.

"I'm looking at this practically and ethically! Would you honestly see this and want me hacking open your chest?" He waved a hand around his face that only had the lip bandage on.

"You will have people who turn away because of it, but as your reputation grows, so will your patient load."

His shoulders sagged and he turned back to the papers. "Do you want me to take the job?"

"I want you to do what will make you happy, not what is easiest." She resumed sorting with him.

"I don't know." The words were almost inaudible and his movements slowed to a halt as he stared at the desk. "In a different life, literally, I knew what made me happy for a career." Then he looked at her. "There was that thrill again in the OR - the chance to touch a beating heart, to fix it. I miss that. But then here..." He cracked a smile. "I can drop everything and have lunch with you. I can be with you if you fall ill. You're right here to talk if I need to discuss something in the middle of the day. I won't miss the babies take first steps or say their first words." He shook his head and stared at the desk again. "In a perfect world, I'd be in surgery one or two days a week and work from home the rest of the time as CEO."

"Is that not a choice?"

He shook his head. "I can't have just surgery hours, I'd need clinic and hospital hours too."

"So, are they asking you to step down as CEO? You couldn't possibly run both jobs." She frowned. Perhaps they proposed this to him because of the recent photos of his face released and it was just another way to get him out as CEO.

"It would be one week on, one week off. The off weeks I'd be CEO. I'd have to co-CEO with someone." Then he looked at her. "Would you like me to be practicing?"

"What kind of question is that? It doesn't bother me in the least if you practice or not. Does it bother you?"

"No, but I want to know what you want."

"Goodness, Jay, that's not really up to me. I don't have a right to weigh in on your decision." She sat back in the chair.

He leaned a hip against the desk and set the last paper from his pile down before turning to her. A frown creased his brow. "You're my wife - you have every right to get a say in this. I know that the final decision is ultimately up to me. We talked about this last time when I was looking for a job. I think you won't say because you do have a strong opinion."

Pressing her lips together, she held his gaze. "When you're this torn, I'm not going to tilt you one way or the other. What about perinatal? You said once that you wanted to do that."

He shook his head. "That would mean going through OB or MFM training and then a couple more years of fellowship...I don't want to be in school and doing rounds when we have young children."

"Alright. Would you need to finish your fellowship if you took this job?"

He gave a single nod. "I could take a program where it's two years instead of three. Obviously medicine has advanced since I practiced, but I anticipate the first year being easier than the first go-around. Assuming we try for a baby in the next year, I might be done before the baby is born."

So he'd given this some thought. She nodded. "Sounds like it'll work out perfect." Forcing away the sadness of not having him at home all the time anymore, she smiled. But it didn't quite reach her heart.

He didn't say anything for a moment and then looked down as he stroked a corner of he desk peeking out from beneath the papers. "Em...I wish you would stop me."

She blinked.

"I know that working from home is smothering for some people and me being around all the time might get aggravating sometimes..."

Her eyes widened. "Jay, if I ever implied that I don't like being at home with you, I didn't mean it that way."

"Just, please tell me what you want. I don't want to make you feel guilty if I want what you don't. But I don't want to pick what neither of us want. On three we both say what we want and then we talk."

"Fine. But you can't hold back a second to hear my answer."

"You can't either. Home or hospital. One, two, three," he counted. "Home."

"Home." She blinked in surprise that he wanted the same thing.

He dropped to one knee at her feet to be eye level and took her hands with a wide eye. "Truly? You don't care that I'm home all the time?"

"I shouldn't sway you - "

"Sway me. God, Emma, sway me like hell if you want me home." He spoke in all earnestness, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. "I worry that it would be best for you if I wasn't around twenty-four, seven. That maybe it gets hard dealing with the media and the baggage that I come with. I don't want to work away from home where I can be around you and the children."

She raised her eyebrows. "Why would you ever think I get tired of you? Of course there will be days when we bicker and it is better for us to have some time apart so we can miss each other and be our own persons, but that doesn't mean I don't want you home." Pulling a hand out of his, she stroked his silky hair. "I would miss you if you worked at a hospital, but I don't want you home if it would make you resent me. And I don't ever want to hear that silly notion you once stated about working nights so I wouldn't have to be around you."

A grin nearly split his face. "The past week when I wake up at night thinking this is all too good, that it's a dream, you roll over and stroke my right cheek with a sleepy 'shhh' like you're telling me it's alright."

"Do I?" Her heart stopped. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I did that. It must hurt - "

"No. I mean, I wouldn't ask you to consciously do it because it doesn't feel pleasant physically, but...it's so wonderful. You did it once a few nights ago and I thought it was a fluke. But last night you did it twice, each time when I returned to bed after wandering the house. A few days ago when it happened, you even opened your eyes and smiled at me for a moment. You did it again the second time last night. Then I can fall into a peaceful sleep." His lips pressed together and he looked down at her hands. "I want to believe that even in dim light when you're sleepy, I don't frighten you." The words whispered past his lips and tears shimmered in his eye when he looked at her. "I don't want you to stop."

Scooting closer to the edge of her chair, she cupped his sound cheek. "I don't remember any of this. Wake me up if you can't sleep. And, Jay?" Her voice faded to a whisper as she leaned her forehead to his and looked down at his soft lips. "It's because you don't frighten me." Then she kissed him.


	10. Chapter 10

She left Jason in the dimmed office at nine o'clock and went to retrieve Mr. Henry when the doorbell rang.

Mrs. Yannatou met her at the door with a look of surprise and slight uncertainty, like this might be a slur against her housekeeping skills.

"No, no. Dr. Port." She pointed to her watch. "Meeting." The woman seemed to have Jason's respect, but he had asked for the woman to not be involved in order to keep this a very private matter.

"Oh." The woman nodded, as if remembering Jason's instruction to not answer the door, and disappeared into the kitchen. She certainly took her duty seriously - Jason mentioned that sometimes pretending to finish work for the night was the only way Mrs. Yannatou would retire her to in-law apartment at the back of the house with her husband.

She opened the door.

A man about her age but slightly shorter with a brown mustache and a brown tweed suit removed his red polka dot hat. "David Henry. Mrs. Port?" He transferred his briefcase to his other hand and offered a handshake.

"Yes. Thank you for coming, Mr. Henry." The man had a strong - but not too strong - of a grip and pumped her hand with enthusiasm. An instant like for this man took hold. A bit eccentric in appearance, but he had strong personality - the perfect fit for what Jason needed to get this story out.

"Thank you, ma'm. Lovely home here. A beach house of yours?" He stepped in when she signaled for him to enter.

She smiled and closed the door. "No comment." When his smile melted into surprise, she folded her hands together. "I distinctly recall saying my husband was not permitted to 'no comment' comment, not me."

He smiled and wiggled a finger at her. "Ah ha, you got me there." He held up a handheld recorder. "Note: Mrs. Port is a quick one." Then he clicked it off and winked. "I will be more savvy in my negotiations next time, Mrs. Port."

"Then I will be sure to be one step ahead of you, Mr. Henry. This way. My husband is upstairs in his office." She led the path upstairs. "I think it goes without saying that no photos are permitted."

"Of course. I often use my phone as a recorder, but I thought a handheld recorder would be best so there is no concern of sly photos taken."

"We appreciate the consideration." She knocked on the office door that she'd left ajar, just to give Jason warning.

Jason had turned off the lights and left the bay window untinted, allowing the soft moonlight to flow in off the ocean. The room had enough shadows that Jason could melt away if need be. Two chairs sat facing each other at the far end of the room in the moonlight, parallel to the window. Jason must want Mr. Henry to sit there.

She led the way over as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, sensing Jason's presence at the desk to the right on the way past.

"Mrs. Port, we do have an agreement that this was to be in person to verify this is truly your husband whom I'm interviewing."

"My word is not forgotten." She gestured for him to have a seat in the chair that would otherwise expose Jason's scars to the moonlight.

"Does he come out only at night and keep the house in such darkness?" The reporter's tone held no slurs, simply curiosity as he sat.

She stood near the empty chair to wait for Jason to decide when it was safe to approach. "Only when prying reporters come into the house." A smile and light tone softened the words, a calmness settling in place with this reporter.

"Touché, Mrs. Port. You are good at evading questions." He smiled and pulled out a notepad. "Is it possible to have a bit more light for taking notes?"

"No. Your recorder will have to suffice."

"While we wait, may I ask you a question?" He set his pen and pencil back in the briefcase.

"You may, but I will not promise an answer."

He clicked off the recorder. "Off the record and while it's just the two of us...there are rumors that say you married for money. Why do I get the distinct feeling that is not so?"

"Your instincts are good, Mr. Henry." She folded her hands before her and looked him in the eye. "I'm sure you are well aware of my past. I would not tolerate a man who is anything but kind." Jason had been explicit earlier to not discuss much affection.

 _"I don't want some lunatic figuring out he can kidnap you for ransom," he'd said with an intense scowl._

 _She had wrapped her arms around his middle and smiled. "Who says they won't kidnap you for ransom, Jay?"_

 _A dark glare replied._

 _She had laughed, hugging him tighter. "Or maybe they'll think twice."_

 _"That look used to make an entire platoon of grown men cower, yet you laugh." The man had growled in displeasure but slipped his arms around._

 _"Because you're my teddy bear." Then she'd lain her head against his chest._

Mr. Henry's voice cut into the memory. "There are those who would say he found a beaten down woman and strikes fear in you to keep you from leaving a...man of his appearance, shall I say?"

"What exactly is it that you shan't say?" It would be best to know now if Mr. Henry would be cruel during the interview.

"There are words used to describe your husband that I'm sure you're aware of, Mrs. Port." He seemed not uncomfortable but trying to maintain some level of kindness over a vile topic.

"Your words, Mr. Henry?" How easily it came to be forthright with this man. But then again, there was not much to lose.

"No, ma'm. I do not write what I have not witnessed, and I witness what I judge."

She pursed her lips. "Good. In answer to your question...Do I appear fearful? Beaten down, weak, or somehow abused?" She cocked her head with a pointed look. "Your sources weaken your instincts."

"We shall see, Mrs. Port. I wonder if in his presence you will be as bold and lively, or if you lack companionship and grab the first kind face you see."

She smiled at his innocence and caught a quiet whisper of Jason's suit rustle as he approached. "But, Mr. Henry, we have been in my husband's presence the entire time."

Mr. Henry blinked in surprise and his eyes flew to behind her, although he wouldn't be able to make Jason out.

She turned to the darkness. "Jason, this is Mr. Henry. Mr. Henry, my husband."

Jason took a step forward and extended a hand, the left side of his face illuminated just enough to make him unmistakable. The band of moonlight, however, only kissed the tips of his black shoes and nothing more. "Mr. Henry." His voice remained strong and disinterested.

"Dr. Port." Mr. Henry stood quick and shook his hand. "Thank you for the interview."

"Pardon the delay." Jason melted back into the shadows. "I noticed my wife take a fancy to you, something rare indeed." The warmth of his hand on her back seeped through the ivory silk blouse she'd put on for the interview that matched her tan business skirt and heels.

"Quite a woman. Coy about you too." His tone revealed it as a compliment rather than a slur.

"She's an intelligent woman." His tone remained cool and aloof, lending him an aura of mystery and power. And probably hard for Mr. Henry to peg. "Would you care to sit, Emma?" The faint glow of his hand against the dark gestured toward the empty chair.

So the chair had been meant for her while he remained in the shadows. Interesting that he wanted to maintain a physical distance with her too.

"You enjoy looking at her, don't you, Dr. Port?" Mr. Henry's voice held slight admiration.

She held back the surprise and glanced in Jason's direction. It had never dawned that he used light to his advantage for that reason. Come to think of it, he did often maneuver her into the light in dark rooms.

"It is mere manners to offer a lady a seat," he grumbled, seeming displeased at being caught for his guilty pleasure.

"A seat that could be placed in the dark just as easily." Mr. Henry didn't seem deterred by Jason's gruff manner in the least.

"I would be blind and dumb to not find pleasure in her beauty. I expect people to respect her, Mr. Henry, and I do not take kindly to anything less." It was a warning.

"Of course. A rare gem you have." Mr. Henry flashed her a friendly smile.

Silence. "She is not a possession." He did not sound happy, although he refrained from growling this time.

She slipped Jason a warning look to cool down. "My husband is not pleased with the rumors about me and feels protective of my reputation. Do you have a wife, Mr. Henry?"

"No, ma'm, but a girl I'm seeing seriously."

"So you understand." She offered a calm but pointed smile.

"Of course. Dr. Port, you have billions. Some say that you elect to not have reconstructive surgery - "

She cut in, protectiveness rearing its head. "I shall remind you that I made no agreement as to the length of this interview, Mr. Henry."

"I apologize. I should switch the order of that sentence. I mean no offense." He looked from her back to Jason's direction. "Your wife clearly cares for you. Is it her acceptance that has made reconstructive surgery not worth it?"

"Of course a man would not choose this for his wife. I'm fortunate to have a woman who looks beyond the surface." He kept his answers short and to the point.

"May I asked who Charlotte is? Charlotte's Hope and your helicopter are named after the woman."

"Not a woman, Mr. Henry. And no, you may not inquire further."

The man took Jason's curt answer in good grace. "Is it accurate that you met your wife after a car accident in the mountains and cared for her yourself until the weather cleared?"

"Yes." Jason's voice remained crisp and unemotional.

Something in the reporter changed to a bit softer tone. "And was it love at first sight?"

"When the world is quick to point out all the ways you're unlovable year after year, you begin to believe it's the truth."

A deep ache rose for the loneliness and pain he'd face and had expected to live with forever.

"When one believes himself incapable of being loved or having a future to offer, he does not readily encourage a woman." He spoke matter of fact, but she sensed the sad undertones in him.

A soft smile glinted in the moonlight off Mr. Henry's teeth. "You fell hard fast?"

Jason's voice hardened considerably. "It would be cruel of me to try forcing any affection on or from a woman. I offer her a safe haven and material comforts."

Mr. Henry nodded and glanced at her. "A marriage of convenience: she gets money and a protector, and you don't live out your life alone. And you would rip out the throat of anyone who tries to harm her," he added. "But not a marriage of love." Mr. Henry gave her a pointed look.

She looked out the window but remained seated so as not to appear anxious, choosing the words carefully before looking at the man. "Dr. Port offers a pain-free life and - "

"In exchange for that simple act of humanity, you overlook what others cannot?" He frowned.

"He's a good man - for that, one would find it hard to not look past the surface." She folded her hands in her lap.

"Because you love him."

Oh dear, this man wasn't going to give up easily. She looked away, unsure how to dig out of this without outright saying she didn't love Jason. And that was not an option.

"My wife was abused in the most abhorrent manner that no living being should endure. She knows that I would never touch her in anger." Jason's curt tone belied his struggle with keeping his temper in check. Mr. Henry must be treading too close for Jason's comfort - if the man didn't back off, Jason might call this off in a moment.

The reporter looked in his direction. "Stories have painted you as a man incapable of love, but you seem very protective of each other. Do you love her, Dr. Port?"

"Why are you so focused on my wife, Mr. Henry?" Jason sounded angry, not to mention a bit possessive.

The man gestured to her, seeming oblivious to the temper boiling in the room. "You have a beautiful wife, who seems to adore you. She's intelligent and seems happy, yet has a violent past. Someone like her should be running to the ends of the earth from a man with a reputation like yours, not hunkering down in the mountains alone with you. Every rumor I have researched about you seems unfounded. I asked for an exclusive interview to paint the real Jason Port, but I think you want me to print that this is an unemotional marriage. Why?" The man's mustache twitched.

She reached over and hit the button to turn off the recorder, keeping a hand over it. "Mr. Henry, it's best to end this subject." Jason wouldn't tolerate this conversation much longer for fear of putting her at risk with the public. Then she sat back.

Mr. Henry nodded and proceeded with questions about the Foundation and Jason's research.

Listening to Jason's deep voice float through the room, she frowned. He seemed so cold and aloof - not far from what rumors painted him to be. It was almost like tension made him pull into himself.

When the reporter began to end the interview what seemed prematurely, she cut in. "Would you care for a tour of the grounds?"

The man blinked and Jason cleared his throat, as if warning against it.

"Oh. Um, yes, ma'm." He turned off his recorder and picked up his briefcase. "Dr. Port, thank you for your time. I shall send a draft to you in a day or two." He offered a hand.

"Stay within sight, Emma. Good evening, Mr. Henry." Then Jason's footsteps faded across the room and he disappeared out the door, completely ignoring the handshake.

"That didn't seem to go well," the man commented and stood.

She rose, taking her time to give Jason a moment to get out of the bright living room. "I'm afraid it took some arm twisting to get him to agree to show up for the interview." Her cheeks burned. Jason didn't have to be outright rude. Leading the way down the steps and out the back of the living room to the patio, she turned to him.

Seeming to have seen through the rouse of a tour, he set down his briefcase and recorder.

Jason hadn't done well making his case as much more than a beast - just a cold, hard man who had a soft spot for things in need. Or perhaps a need to control weak things. Opening her mouth, she closed it. Jason had chosen his actions and words for a reason, so it'd be best to not completely undo them. Walking would help her think. "Shall we go along the beach? I think better on my feet."

"Of course." He kicked off his shoes.

Leaving her heels on the patio, she led the way down the stairs to the shore. Clouds did not dot the sky, thereby failing to offer as much light from the city as last night.

A keychain jingled and a small flashlight lit a path, showing where to avoid patches of sea wood that had washed up. He walked on the left, closest to the sea. "You seem distressed, Mrs. Port."

"May I speak off the record?"

"Yes."

She drew a deep breath and stared at the sparkling sand in the light. "He is afraid that this interview isn't wise. More that someone will think to kidnap me for ransom."

"And realize he would pay any price to get you back." His head bobbed. "It's why he wouldn't admit to any feelings for you. I understand his hesitation. This helps in writing about him - I'll leave you out as much as possible. What is your opinion of him?"

The corner of her mouth tugged in a smile. "I'm very happy, Mr. Henry. And not just for a woman 'like me,' I believe you called it."

A glance revealed a sheepish look on his face. "You aren't going to let me off the hook for anything, are you?" But he smiled.

"I must keep one step ahead, so no. But regarding your question, I highly respect my husband, and you'd find that anyone else who knows him would say the same."

"He does not seem like a very warm person."

She laughed, the feeling so carefree because his perception could not be farther from the truth. "It's hard to get him to open up, but he's one of the most sentimental people I've met. Off the record."

"Off the record." His teeth glinted with the flash of a smile as he kept his eyes on the sand. "After seeing tabloid photos of him in the field with you, which I assume weren't doctored, I expected to find a smiling, quite happy man. It seems ghosts will always haunt him."

Her smile died and she clasped her hands behind her back, looking up at the stars. "When you were a child, did you ever stare up at the sky and think about what wonders the future would bring? If you'd ever be able to reach the stars?"

"I believe most children do, yes."

"His stars disappeared, Mr. Henry." The tiny diamonds shimmered in the abyss. "The world stole from him what the fire did not, and even though I try to put his stars back, he is afraid they won't stay. Darkness is what he knows. It takes time to see stars again after such blackness."

He stared at the sky. "Few people could look closer at what others discard. I think he has a real treasure in you, and you seem to have found a precious gem that the rest of us have overlooked. Remind him from time to time that there are some of us who will take a second look, although we might have to be reminded. Goodnight, Mrs. Port."

She stayed on the beach for a few minutes, absorbing his words. Her toes sank into the cool sand as the warm breeze tugged at her hair and the waves crashed in a gentle lullaby. Turning to look at the house just a short distance away, her eyes landed on a masculine silhouette standing on the balcony off the bedroom.

Mr. Henry's car engine interrupted the sounds of night and his headlights faded down the road. Wrapping her arms around herself, she headed for the house.

He still stood on the balcony minutes later, leaning his hands on the railing. Walking up to him, she set a hand on his back and stood beside him, watching the moonlight dance over the ripples of the ocean.

"You walked on the beach with him." He didn't move.

A smile curled up her lips and she laid her head against his shoulder. "It was a business walk."

"You seemed to enjoy bantering with him."

Turning to lean back against the railing and look at him, she smiled. "Are you jealous? It was banter, not flirtation, and we can rectify that walk right now."

He slid her closer and set his hands on each side of her on the railing. "That doesn't mean I have to like it," he growled, his eye locking with hers.

She smiled, her heart beating a little faster at his possessiveness. "Drove you a little crazy, huh?"

His hips pressed against her, his need quite evident. The man growled in response. "Tis only me honor ta keep me word tha' Ah'm no' takin' ye right 'ere."

The thick burr mixed with his deep growl sent shivers up her spine. She wrapped a leg around his, bit her lower lip, and looked up from beneath her lashes. "Would you take me hard?"

"Would ye enjoy tha'?" His hand slid up to bury in her hair, sending the hairpins from her updo cascading to the desk. "Knowin' Ah want claim ta ye like tha'?" He growled deep in his chest, not seeming to care about the hairpins.

Her toes curled. "Maybe." Then she slipped out of his arms and backed away a couple steps, the smile still tugging. "Maybe I like seeing you jealous for once." She turned and strode inside as she untucked her shirt.

As predicted, he followed. He had an alpha male side to him that wasn't going to let her get the last say in this. He caught her hips from behind.

She smiled as he pulled her back against his hard body and continued unbuttoning her blouse like she had forgotten about him.

"Ah'll watch ye change," he rumbled in her ear. It was a command but spoken gentle enough that it was obvious he would relent if she gave any resistance. The man seemed to be going crazy with need to lay claim to her in some way. And it was delicious.

With a smile, she let her shirt fall open. The butterflies faded away, but the lust in his eye chased away the shame of her body. It had been more than three weeks since being intimate, but he breathed back to life that sexy, womanly feeling. He seemed to hang on her every move. This time, grief or regret or sadness didn't flash through his eye, only love and desire. And it was empowering.

Letting her shirt fall to the floor, she unzipped her skirt. His eye grew dark with passion.

The moment she let the skirt pool at her ankles and reveal thigh-high stockings, he breathed, "Oh dear God," and sank to his knees, as if his mortal eyes gazed upon a beautiful goddess.

His innocent reaction melted her heart. Needing his touch, she walked over.

His hands immediately engulfed her hips. He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to her stomach. "Yer so beautiful, Emma."

She pulled in her stomach to get away from his mouth being his hands locked her hips in place. "Jay, don't. Some of the water weight from the baby won't come off." What had once been a flat belly now had a tiny swell that refused to go away yet. Pushing against his shoulders, she tried to back up.

"It doesn't matter," he whispered, his hands not releasing. "You'll be beautiful even when you're ninety years old." Then he sprinkled soft kisses with his hot tongue over her torso.

The passion faded from him and in its place rose something far more intimate and tender. Burying her hands in his hair, her eyes drifted closed as he held her in his arms. With a sigh of sweet pleasure from his gentleness, she sank to her knees and undid one of his shirt buttons.

He captured her mouth with his in a slow, tender kiss.

* * *

She rolled over and sighed at the morning light that poured in. The bed jiggled. With a yawn, she stretched and reached out to Jason's side of the bed. He wasn't there. She cracked open an eye.

The man leaned over the side of the bed in sweats as he tied on shoes for a run.

"Nooo," she groaned. "Come back to bed."

A deep chuckle replied. "It's already half past seven, love."

"Uhhhhh," she whined and grabbed the back of his gray sweatshirt, pulling him down onto the bed. Then she draped her head and arm across his chest and closed her eyes again.

His chest bounced with laughter. "As much as I thoroughly enjoy a naked woman on me, it's going to grow hot in sweats in bed."

"So take off your clothes," she drawled in a sleepy voice without opening her eyes.

"Come for a run with me. The surgeon finally gave me the clear on Thursday to exercise again - "

"Exercise with me like last night."

He laughed. "Is that what you call it?"

"It wasn't sex but we got awfully sweaty." She offered a sleepy smile, half way between consciousness and dreamland. The man had given a beautiful repeat of their wedding night a few hours ago. "You're a good lover."

Another chuckle. "Thank you, I think. I'm not sure if I should be offended that you're as content as when we do have sex."

"Mmmm," she purred. Then she sighed when he didn't take the bait to come to bed. "You're a crazy idiot. It's too early. Dress me and I'll come for a run."

The man had far too much fun exploring that task. Once he had every bit of clothing on her, he retrieved a hairbrush and rubberband. As he glided the brush through her locks while she sat sideways on the bed, she stretched in luxury from the pampering.

"There's a black tie charity ball for the Foundation next month. I have to give a speech, so I have to go. Would you care to accompany me?"

A large public event. They always ended up with her being the forgotten wallflower - especially this one because everyone would be clamorong for the CEO's attention. He'd make every attempt to keep her in his arm, but eventually he'd be pulled in so many directions that she'd get separated from him. Small talk and strangers weren't a good mix. But it would look odd if he didn't show up with her. "Ok."

He pecked a kiss on her shoulder and then continued with her ponytail. "I'm glad I'm not the only one with white hair." He reached for the hairband on the bed.

She gasped and jerked away, spinning around in horror with a hand in her hair.

He smiled and held up his hands. "I'm teasing, sweetheart."

"That is _not_ funny. You have to get white hair first." She snatched the rubberband and put up her own ponytail.

"Why?" He chuckled.

"Because you're older." It wouldn't be so bad to get white if Dr. Sexy had white hair too.

"That ship sailed in my twenties, sweetheart." He tugged her close and his arms snaked around her middle.

With a frown, she leaned back in his arms. "You don't have white hair."

He grinned. "It burned off." The man gestured to his right temple. "It was mostly here, but it's sprinkled here and there." When she gave him a look of doubt, he ran his hand through his hair in the wrong direction. Sure enough, white strands here and there caught the light.

Her mouth fell open. "Your hair is so shiny that it blends in like it's just the light reflecting off the black!" She swatted his arm like it was his fault.

"You don't even have any white hair. Why are you hitting me for it?" He smiled but rubbed his arm.

"Cuz I pull it out!" Her mouth snapped shut and eyes widened. Oh shoot, that had been said out loud.

His brow furrowed. "Don't do that." His hand stroked over her hair like he stroked a wound after pulling out a splinter. "Em, you're lovely no matter what color your hair is."

"I didn't think you were turning white. I'm not going to first." She crossed her arms over her chest in a pout, the issue seeming very important.

"For heaven's sake, I'll promise to shave my head if you get very white before I do." He kissed her forehead.

She poked his belly. "You're one of those guys who would look hot with a bald head, brat."

"Then I'll dye it pink so no one will be looking at your white hair." He smiled.

With a roll of her eyes, she pulled the ponytail tight and headed for the bathroom. "Be my guest 'cause no one notices me anyways," she laughed and closed the door.

In the bathroom, her work phone sat on the counter and buzzed with a text. She picked it up. A text last night from Olin.

 _Had big details lead update on the case. Forgot to add you on the meeting notice tonight. Get update from team on Monday._

There were only four team members on the case. She tossed the phone aside and sighed. Just another example of being forgettable.

When she came out ready for the run, he pushed himself away from the wall where he'd been stretching and frowned. "What do you mean no one notices you? Am I too busy with work?" He followed on her heels as she left the bedroom.

"I wasn't talking about you, just in general. So, are we running along the beach?" She trotted down the stairs.

"Em?" He caught her arm at the bottom of the steps. "Do you not want to go to the ball?"

"No, it was just a random comment that blurted out. There's no need to analyze it, Jay." She shrugged and headed for the patio door.

"Yes, there is. You've been pushing me away since I mentioned the ball, and that was an odd comment you made." He locked the patio and fell into step beside her going down the stairs and onto the beach.

"I just know you'll be busy that night networking."

"Em, stop avoiding the issue and talk to me. You don't have to go." He caught her hand and jerked her to a halt. "You're trying to be all tough, but you're failing miserably. Tell me what's wrong."

With a shrug, she forced a smile and looked away when he clearly wasn't going to drop the conversation. "I'm not good at talking to strangers. I know you'll have to do a lot of that at this event." It was mostly true.

His brow knit and he stroked her cheek. "If you won't tell your husband what's wrong, tell your best friend."

"I hate social events." She shrugged to take away some of the sting and looked down. "It's just...it's so stupid. It's nothing." Then she broke into a jog on a path that paralleled the beach and the back road.

He jogged on her right, silent and patient as she struggled with shoving down the emotions...almost like he knew she'd lose the battle. The man kept just a bit closer than other times she'd jogged with him, like he waited for her to open up at any moment.

It wasn't like she didn't carry a big load for the case that Olin could've easily forgotten to include her. It was just like that field trip to the amusement park in middle school when the class had split up into groups of four or five - the girls had forgotten that she'd still been in the bathroom and left. And then the teacher and whole class had forgotten about her and left her behind at the park before getting back to school and realizing they were one headcount short. No one had even noticed she was missing until they pulled a roster out to figure out which kid wasn't there. But by then she'd called Mom to get her from the park office and had balled her eyes out from being scared and forgotten.

Or like in high school going to Prom with a couple girlfriends and everyone pairing up with someone at the dance...and leaving her behind as a wallflower. And then classmates asking on Monday where she'd been because no one remembered seeing her there - even the kids who had passed and said ' hi' at the Prom. Or like in college when the professor had paired everyone up as lab partners but forgotten about her, so the old professor had to be her partner...

It always hurt more hearing people chuckle afterwards and say, 'Oh, I forgot about you.' This ball would be no different. Jason would get distracted and have to go have private business talks, and she'd be left in a sea of strangers. No one would notice if she left, except maybe Jason after awhile. Being so ordinary and quiet that vanishing into thin air wouldn't turn anyone's head for hours or days hurt. To be of so little importance. But it was what she'd always been and would always be - forgettable. At least Jason would never forget about her...not for more than a few hours, at least.

Her lungs burned, breaking into the daydreaming. Even Jason panted from the hard pace fueled by emotions. She slowed to a walk, resting her hands on her head to drag in as much air as possible.

His hands rested on his head too, but he remained patient and silent. Another few minutes and the pants slowed. The silence was a stronger invitation to talk than if he'd pushed. When she resumed at a fast walk, he fell into step.

It finally blurted out. "Can I leave the ball after a couple hours? I won't really know anyone when you go off and have business conversations anyways - "

"Why on earth would you think I'd go off and leave you? There wouldn't be any conversations so private that you couldn't be there." He frowned.

She threw him a look. "You'll look henpecked if you drag me around on your arm all night."

"No," he snorted. "And I don't care if I do. I'm not leaving you in a sea of strangers to fend for yourself. Why do you think I'd just abandon you?"

Keeping her eyes forward, she scoffed. "You'll have more important things to do that night than babysit."

"Em." He grabbed her arm and stopped, forcing her to turn toward him. "You're never a burden. I'm excited to show off my new bride to everyone. What is this about?"

It was stupid and insignificant, but this was the most terrible feeling right now - the fear that Jason might forget about her too. She shrugged in an attempt to shove away the hurt. "Olin had a meeting last night on the case and forgot to include me."

"Maybe he was tired or in a hurry. How many people are on the case?"

"Four. Including me." She started walking when he looked surprised. "Don't make excuses. I'm just tired of being so forgettable to everyone and it ticked me off."

"I think it more hurt you and you're trying to be tough about it. I'm sorry, Em." His hand slipped into hers. "You're not forgettable to everyone." He brought her hand to his lips. "I won't forget about you at the ball. What else has happened?"

She relayed some of the incidents from childhood.

"Oh, sweetheart." He pulled her in for a hug.

Tears welled and she pushed against his chest. A hug would make the waterworks start. "You walk into a room," she threw up her arms, "and everyone just stops because you command attention like this alpha male!" Then she brushed at her eyes as the stupid tears started.

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Sweetheart, they stop to stare at the mask - "

"I've seen women look at you and men puff up like they're intimidated - "

"Em, look at me." He stopped and cupped her face in his hands as he searched her eyes. "I'm never going to forget about you. That's the beauty of having that best friend and partner - there's always someone who will stay behind and wait, someone who will notice if you're gone. I'm never going to leave you behind, sweetheart." He pressed a kiss to her damp brow.

She pulled back and brushed away the tears. He always knew how to make the hurt go away. "I'm all sweaty."

"I don't care about that either." He smiled. "We've sweat all over each other in bed. I love that we've seen each other at our worst because we know we're still loved, Em." Then he picked her up to sit on his hips like she weighed no more than a child.

With a smile, she wrapped her legs around his waist and held his shoulders. "Don't hurt your back."

"Don't wiggle and we'll be fine." He leaned back a bit to counter her weight before locking his hands under her bottom. "Now, as far as Olin, talk to him Monday. Maybe something happened and he was just very distracted and it just happened to be you whom he forgot. You're talented and he values you, Em. I don't think he just forgot about you. And if he did, I'll go rough him up a bit." He winked.

She smiled and hugged him, all of the oppressing weight fading away. "Thanks, Jay."

He couldn't return the hug without her falling, but his warped cheek pressed to hers. "I don't want to hear of you worrying that I'll forget about you, alright?"

She nodded and then jerked back. "Your cheek! Sorry! I wasn't thinking. Did I hurt you?" Reaching out and then remembering at the last moment to not touch, she looked at him with wide eyes.

A gentle smile glinted in his eye. "Sometimes it's worth the discomfort, Em. I'm fine." He set her down. The run resumed with a companionable silence this time.

She glanced at him during the steady jog as the cool morning breeze blew in salty air from the sea. A thin sprinkling of trees canopied the trail. "Can you feel a difference without the mask?"

"There's enough feeling to notice the weight and heat trapped from the mask aren't there." He spoke like it was a discussion about what to eat for dinner - no shame or embarrassment.

She bit back a smile that he seemed so comfortable talking about the scars now. Looking ahead, she watched for his reaction from the corner of her eye. "I like when you don't wear it."

His cheek grew a little pinker in embarrassment. "I kind of like it too." He stopped all the sudden and grabbed her arm, yanking her so quick that she fell back against him.

"Jay, what - "

His hand clamped over her mouth, his eye scanning the thickening wooded trail ahead. "Something's not right. Let's go back," he whispered and whirled her around to go.

Two men in white tanks and jeans with thick sticks stood just feet away, blocking the trail. They had minor bruises and scrapes like they'd been in a fight recently - and had come out the victors. "You're on our turf," one of them drawled and tapped the branch against his leg.

She swallowed hard and shoved down the panic. Jason could handle two thugs.

"Apologies. We got lost," Jason said as calm as could be. "We'll be on our way." He took her hand and started to lead the way around the men, going into the brush to keep a wide girth.

A couple more guys came out and blocked the way, one of them swinging a thick, heavy metal chain. That chain promised to easily break bones.

Shit. Four. Jason could probably take on four if she helped with the chain guy.

"What happened to your face? You're like a Freddy Krueger freak." They snickered.

Anger overtook the fear, but Jason squeezed her hand in warning to keep quiet. A branch crunched from behind. Two more - one with a steel pipe.

Jason's posture tensed like he spotted them too. He pulled her closer behind himself. "If you're looking for money, I didn't bring my wallet on the jog. We'll be on our way and won't bother you again."

The one with the heaviest muscling that rivaled Jason's just laughed. "The freak thinks they just get to go." He cracked his knuckles, ready for a fight. "No one gets through without a fee."

"All I have is my phone. It's a new model and you could sell it for two or three hundred dollars - that's more than you'd get if I had my wallet." He pulled out his phone, remaining calm and trying to negotiate out of a dangerous situation.

"What's your girl look like?" One of them offered a slimy smile and nodded toward her.

His grip on her hand tightened and he tucked her farther behind himself. "Both of our phones. That's a six hundred dollar deal."

"We never said we're interested in money," the one with the chain smiled a started swinging the chain so it whistled through the air.

"If you want a fight, I'll stay but the lady gets to go." He slipped his hand behind his back.

She glanced down. He had 9-1-1 on an active call. She slipped the phone into her waistband to hide it. Jason had another thought coming if he believed she'd leave him to be beaten to death.

"We're more interested in some fun, Scarface." The man flung the chain.

Jason's arm whipped up to block as it cracked down, just as the man with the pipe rushed in with the two men who had heavy branches.

"NO!" She screamed and fought as another dragged her back. The men rained down blows so fast and hard on Jason as two men grabbed his arms to immobilize him. A hit with the pipe to the belly dropped him to his knees. Another whip with the chain. A sickening crack as it made contact with his body - or maybe it was the breaking of bones.

Oh shit. They'd beat him to death. Panic surged. "NOOO! NOOO!" She screamed and bucked to get anyone's attention to help. If nothing else, her screams might fuel Jason's adrenaline to fight.

His face bled and blood wicked across his sweatshirt. The punches and whippings didn't slow, but rage burned in his eye as soon as he spotted her being dragged away. "Let her go!" he roared and threw himself at her, against the restraints of the men holding his arms. Over and over like a savage animal. Horrid thuds of his body being beaten mingled with her screams. But he didn't even seem to notice, his eye solely on her.

The man pulled her up against his chest - exactly where she wanted. Flinging her head back, his sternum audibly cracked and he let go. She spun and slammed her elbow into his chin, snapping his head back. He collapsed in a heap of unconsciousness.

The men holding Jason's arms lost their balance and Jason flung his arms, sending the men colliding into each other. Their heads knocked and they fell in a pile, unconscious too. Three left.

The other men laughed and smashed the pipe into Jason's knee. He collapsed onto his hands and knees as the blows rained down, trying to get to her using sheer will alone.

The one with the stick came over with a disgusting grin. It was the ones with the chain or pipe that she had to get away from Jason. Snatching a thick branch, she flung it in Jason's direction with a prayer that he'd get it before the other men. He grabbed the branch just as the man grabbed her.

An arm locked through hers, pinning her arms behind her back against his chest. Pain exploded as he yanked her ponytail, snapping her head back and immobilizing her to face Jason. "Watch. He's putting up a better fight than most. He doesn't like you being touched." He seemed to find pleasure in taunting Jason.

Jason's body was giving out fast until the horrid abuse - he struggled to even get up on his hands and knees. A horrific scream ripped out of his throat when the chain cracked down over his spine. There had to have internal injuries by now. The horrid monsters laughed as he collapsed, trying to drag himself to her yet. He was dying.

Everything burned red. "STOP IT!" she screamed. Arching her back even a fraction of an inch in the tight lock, she slammed it back against the man, hurting his arm. Pain shot up her shoulders. But he loosened his grip enough that she could swing a foot back between his legs. He dropped to his knees and howled in pain - his face the perfect height. She slammed a fist into his face, knocking him out. Blinding pain tore up her arm but it didn't matter. Jason. She whirled. None of the men noticed in their fun of beating Jason. Grabbing the branch from the unconscious man, she charged. It shattered as it made contact with the heads of the men with the chain and pipe. One of the other men got up and caught her leg.

She slammed to the ground and rolled over to block the blows as the man with the chain raised it. Closing her eyes, she braced for bones to shatter.

Something wet and warm and heavy dragged over her. A gasp of pain that wasn't hers.

Opening her eyes, she stared at Jason's bloody face as he covered her with his body, absorbing the blows. His eye was unfocused like he had a concussion, but his body still flinched with each hit. Each weak, whimper of pain portrayed the strength draining from him as fast as running water. He protected in the only way he could anymore - using his body as a shield until his last breath.

Sirens screamed in the background.

"Jason, no." She pushed and shoved on his chest to make him move so she could stop the beatings.

"Stay where I can kee-ph you safe," he panted with slurred speech that had nothing to do with the missing bandage lip. "They're almost here." Sweat dripped from his brow - or maybe it was blood - and he grew too weak to react to the pain anymore.

"Get on the ground! Drop your weapons!" Police yelled and police dogs barked.

It was like the sheer will to protect her kept him going because now that help was here, his body began to go limp. "I lo-ph you."

"No, Jason. Stay with me." Tears and panic swelled. "Help! He needs an ambulance!" the screams echoed through the woods in terror. He was a dead weight. She dragged an arm free to feel for a pulse.

Police and paramedics rushed over and eased him off.

"His back might be broken and I think he has a concussion," she sobbed as they brought over a stretcher and started examining him. "Get him to the hospital!"

One paramedic helped her up. "Where do you hurt? You're covered in blood."

"It's his." She pulled away and didn't hear a word as they put Jason on oxygen and started an IV. He had to be alive. The paramedic radioed in words like 'distended belly,' 'internal bleeding,' and so many other things wrong with him as they rushed him to the ambulance.

A cop grabbed her arm and said something, but she shoved him off to get to Jason being loaded in the ambulance.

The ER doctor came into the waiting room an hour later and she shot to her feet, wearing a hospital gown and robe because of all the blood on her own clothes. Her heart stilled.

"He'll be alright. Please, sit."

She dropped into the chair in relief.

"We were able to drain the blood in his abdomen that came from his liver. We did an ultrasound and the surgeon and radiologist agree that it seems to have stopped bleeding and surgery wouldn't be of any benefit to him, but he needs to remain in bed for a few days and keep quiet. We did a PET scan to check for brain and other internal injuries. He has a mild concussion but seems to be doing better now."

"Is he awake?"

"He is and seems to be coherent. Very worried about you too. The police wanted to speak with him first since they've already interviewed you, so I said I'd update you while he answers questions."

"Is his back hurt?" She folded her hands together in a prayer. He would live, but with what damages?

"Not that we can tell. His spine looks fine on the scan too. His muscling is what saved him from more serious injuries. He's too sore right now to be able to tell for certain, but it looks like his right forearm has a hairline fracture. His ribs look like they might have some bone bruising. His knee is very swollen, but it doesn't seem to be broken or anything badly damaged. Now, the least and worst of his problems are on the surface."

She frowned and her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"He doesn't have life-threatening injuries. He does have several skin injuries. I spoke with his burn specialist, who said Jason has a unique issue of difficulty getting his skin to heal."

She shook her head. "No, that's just over the scar tissue from the fire."

The doctor looked apologetic. "I know. He has a multitude of bruises and cuts on the scars that we don't know how they'll respond. You both need to be prepared that this delicate tissue could die from the extent of bruising. We have a dermatologist and our burn team discussing how is best to treat him. The worst visible injuries are on his back from where the chain hit him." He paused, as if trying to decide how to say it. "He's on antibiotics as a precaution and we stitched what we could. He...he could have severe scaring on his back from the whippings. Thankfully they are not deep, so he won't have muscle damage."

She wiped the tears that fell. "Will they restrict movement?"

"It's too early to tell, but we don't believe so. We're going to keep him for a couple days just to be sure more injuries don't show up. Would you like to go see him? They should have him settled in a room upstairs."

She nodded and stood, the tears of relief that he'd be alright flowing so fast.

He laid on his left side, his poor face so swollen and purple that he didn't even look like himself. She stopped in the doorway, summoning the stomach to see what they'd done to him.

"Is she coming?" He seemed anxious and spoke to the nurse.

"She's coming. Can you see any clearer yet?" The young nurse finished dressing his face scars with a bandage.

"Not much. She's not hurt?"

"No, Dr. Port. I promise she's fine." Then the nurse glanced at the doorway.

She must look like a runaway patient in hospital clothes. "My clothes were ruined." Then she walked over to him, worry fleeing his face at the sound of her voice. His eye searched for her. "Hi, Jay." Taking his outstretched hand, his poor fingers even bruised and nicked, she stepped closer to the bed.

His face contorted in pain as he reached out with his fractured arm and tried to pat her down. "Are you hurt? I can't see much." His hand pulled the hospital gown like he tried to figure out what she wore. "Are you in the hospital?" The man tried to sit up, revealing a battered torso that had stitches here and there among the bruises.

Her lip quivered at what they had done to him. "No." Her voice broke. "Lie down, honey."

The nurse touched the one spot where his arm wasn't bruised and helped her get him in bed again. "I'm going to get him some pain medicine - this one doesn't look like it's helping him much." Then the nurse left.

"My clothes were all dirty, so they gave me this to wear. No one hurt me." Tears fell onto his hand.

"Don't cry," he cooed even though he looked so positively awful.

"They hurt you. I thought you were going to die."

Shame clouded his face and he looked away.

"Jay, there were six of them with weapons - "

"I wouldn't have been able to protect you if they had been after you. I'm sorry - "

"Hush. There is absolutely nothing to be sorry about. You did protect me. I don't have a single scratch." She sniffled.

He laid the tip of his forefinger against her wrist where a dark handprint remained. "I can see colors." So much shame tinged his voice and expression. "It's bad enough having my wife see the shit beaten out of me, but then I didn't even keep them away from you."

Squatting beside the bed to be face level with him, she searched his unfocused eye. "You are not Superman and no one expects you to be. You did keep me safe when they tried to go after me." She sniffled. "Don't you dare be ashamed."

The nurse returned. "I'm going to give you a light sedative while we clean your back now."

He snorted in disgust. "You should keep it for someone who deserves it."

"Don't talk like that." She took his hand, but he wouldn't look in her direction as the nurse injected the I.V. line.

His breathing slowed and his eye drifted shut.

"I think it's his pride that stings as much as his conscience, Mrs. Port. That gang has been on the police radar for months for beating up men. It's always the ones whose wives or girlfriends witness the beatings who struggle the most, like they feel emasculated or something." Then she washed and gloved and stood at his back, peeling off a large, bloody bandage. "You'll need a strong stomach if you stay."

She frowned and stepped around the bed to look. It was the first time gore made her throw up.

* * *

He laid on his stomach in his own bed at the beach house on Monday morning, still as quiet as ever. And still looking as painful as a couple days ago. "I told you to go back home. There's no need for you to stay and sleep on the floor like a dog," he growled.

She laid the large gauze bandage soaked in Mrs. Yonnatou's poultice over his poor back that looked like a horror scene yet. The doctor had cut out the stitches when they strained from infection beginning to fester.

He gasped and squeezed handfuls of the sheet as he panted through the pain.

Mrs. Yannatou stood on the other side of the bed and nodded at her, as if promising the pain would pass in a moment. The doctor had said the poultice was worth a try because Jason had no other options but time and antibiotics to help with the terrible wounds that left his back looking like it'd gone through a shredder.

She kept a hand on his arm to offer as much comfort as she could. His pants eased a few moments later. "I'm not leaving you, and sleeping in the same bed would cause you severe pain if I rolled over into you."

"By all means, let's compound being a shitty husband with making my wife sleep on the floor," he mumbled.

Frustration bubbled up. "Jason, if you don't stop blaming yourself for harm that didn't even happen to me, I'll..."

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, a stray tear of pain threatening to leak out. "You'll what?"

She shook her head with a sigh and brushed a kiss over his forehead where it peeked out from between the bed and the bandage on the scars. "I'll have to kiss you until you stop talking nonsense. You're a good husband, and it's my choice to sleep on the floor in case you need something during the night."

"Maybe I deserve to have to wait all night. You're sleeping on the sofa tonight." His jaw set in that stubborn way of his and he glared at her, the white of his poor eye red due to internal bleeding from a punch to the face. At least his eye wasn't almost swollen shut anymore.

"My, you are a bear today. What do you want for breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry," he practically snapped.

"You need something to have with your pain pills - "

"That I'm not taking," he growled.

She sighed. One, two, three. Deep breath and stay calm. "You refused to take them last night and barely slept. There's no reason for you to hurt."

"I don't need - " When Mrs. Yannatou swapped out the cooled poultice for a warm, fresh one, his eye rolled back and he blinked hard like he fought fainting from the agony.

Picking up his medical bag on the floor that he always took with him, she dug out a syringe and pain medicine. "I don't understand why you're being difficult. It's your choice - pills or injection, but I'm not sitting here while you suffer. You barely ate yesterday; you will eat today." She set down his bag and waited.

The fight drained out of him as his pants slowed like the heat of the compresses eased the fresh pain. Humiliation seeped into his eye and he looked away.

Lying down on her stomach to be closer so maybe he'd open up, she set her hand over his. "Talk to me, Jay. You got hurt protecting me but won't let me help you, and I'm going crazy. We're best friends, Jay. Tell me what's wrong," she whispered.

"They won't be the last, Emma. They might've left us alone if I didn't look like this. God knows what they would've done to you if they hadn't been focused on me - "

"Or maybe they would've gone after me if you didn't look like this. The doctor said you survived because your muscles padded you from internal damage. The doctor told me yesterday that I wouldn't have survived the beating you took. So maybe instead of feeling guilty that your scars caused this, you should be proud that you took what might've been meant for me. And they did try going after me. You literally saved my life, so maybe you should be proud of yourself. I don't know that many men would've climbed on top of their wives to be a shield." She gave a gentle squeeze to his hand. "Will you take the pain pills?"

His eye, even more vibrant against the broken red blood vessels, held hers. "I'm so nauseous from the migraine I can't stand it."

She frowned. "Migraine?"

"My head throbs from the concussion and it's giving me a migraine. I got sick after trying to eat lunch and supper yesterday. And the second scan yesterday showed no further brain damage, so I'm not going back to the hospital."

Her eyebrows smashed together. "When I asked if you were alright after you came out of the bathroom last night, you said you were." She got up as smooth as possible to not jiggle the bed. "I can't believe how stubborn you are." Then she drew up the syringe. "I'm just about ready to go find that nurse from your eye surgery to punch her and drag her over here to tell you that you do _not_ have a pain med problem. Right here?" She pointed to his right upper arm.

"You're on my blind side."

She touched his shoulder muscle.

"Up a bit...there."

Cleaning the site with an alcohol wipe, she gave the injection like he'd taught before. "Do you need something for the nausea?"

"I don't believe I have anything in there for it."

He did and seemed a thousand times more comfortable after a few minutes.

"You look tired, Jay. You should sleep." She changed the poultice again while the housekeeper worked on making breakfast. He didn't flinch too much this time.

"Emma?" His voice grew thick with drowsiness from the med and exhaustion. "I'm glad you don't cower when I growl."

She smiled at the odd compliment. Leaning over him, careful of his back, she kissed his shoulder where it wasn't nicked or bruised. "I love you, honey."

A soft smile touched his lips as he closed his eye and gave a soft sigh of contentment. His breathing melted into the long, deep breaths of slumber.

She sat in a chair beside the bed eating a sandwich at lunchtime and typing on the work laptop while he slept. When she reached toward the nightstand for her sandwich again, a blood-red eye watched her. She jumped and set a hand over her heart to slow it's thundering. Thank heaven his eye would clear up soon. "Hi, hun." Setting aside the laptop, she scooted closer to the bed.

His brow furrowed. "What happened to your hair?"

Oh dear. The pain meds must be making him groggy. "I cut it a few weeks ago, remember?"

"Oh. I like it." When he shifted ever so slightly, he winced. "Why does my back hurt from my face?"

She frowned and then it dawned. "Because your back got hurt. Remember those guys in the woods beat you up? You aren't in the hospital for your face, honey."

"Oh." He closed his eye and his forehead wrinkled like he tried to concentrate. "Am I supposed to make love to you tonight?"

A flush swept up. "No, sweetheart. You're in no shape for that." She smiled at his adorableness.

"Good. I think I'm broke there."

She winced. The doctor said there had been bruising on just about every inch of him and to avoid the bedroom for a couple weeks. "Do you hurt right now?"

His eye squinted shut in concentration. "I don't think so. Is today my birthday?"

"Yes, honey, but we decided yesterday that we'd celebrate when you're feeling better." She stroked his hair.

The man tried to push himself up, but the moment he moved his arms and caused his back to flex, he cried out in pain.

"No, no, no. Stay in bed." She caught his arm and helped ease him back down.

"The red box," he panted through the pain. He pointed to the nightstand drawer and his finger drifted like the room moved for him. "You were supposed to have it."

Pulling open the drawer as fast as possible so he wouldn't try to get up again, she handed him a red ring box.

He fumbled with it with one hand. "It doesn't open." The poor man frowned, seeming genuinely confused why it wouldn't open backwards.

"Honey, maybe we should wait until you don't feel so woozy from the medicine." She turned the box around for him.

"I'm not gooey."

"No, woozy." She smiled.

He opened it and fumbled trying to get the ring out.

Her heart stopped. It was a perfect replica of her gold rose engagement ring that had been stolen.

"Our anniversary. You have to wear it tonight for my birthday."

Tears burned. He had been ready with her new ring on the one-year anniversary of their engagement to make it a special occasion.

He rolled onto his side, despite the whimpers and pain it caused him. "No," he argued when she reached to stop him. Then he caught her hand with his and had to attempt three times to aim the ring at her finger. "We have to go home to the garden so I can propose again."

The tears rolled down. He'd been planning to re-enact the proposal to make this ring as special as the last after she'd been so heartbroken when her wedding rings been stolen.

He tried to get up again, the pain springing tears to his eye.

"Stay, Jason. It will keep until you're better." She sniffled and applied gentle pressure to his shoulder to keep him down.

"Don't cry." He reached up, his brow glistening with pain, and wiped away her tears. "I got a new one." The poor thing blinked hard to focus through the agony. "You can keep it on so you don't cry." His hands cupped her left one as his eye began to droop from so much effort. "I'll propose tonight. I'll make it all better." He fought to keep his eye open. "I just need to sleep for a few minutes before we go home." Then the drug and exhaustion pulled him under.

She looked down at the beautiful ring. He'd be frustrated with himself later that he'd ruined his own surprise, but he'd been so determined and it'd been so sweet that he was worried about her having it today. He'd even brought it along on the trip, perhaps just in case they got delayed in California for his birthday. Tears plopped onto her jeans. It was the sweetest re-proposal that couldn't have been more heartfelt if he'd tried.

Leaning down, she brushed a kiss over his cheek. "Thank you, Jay," she whispered. "It was perfect."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews for Ch 9, YazminXD, #HomeGirl, Awed, Shadows11. Ch 10 reviews aren't showing up, so I had to dig through my email to see who left messages - hopefully I hit everyone. Thanks for reviews, Shadows 11, Awed, HunterofLight123, #HomeGirl (description of her ring was when he originally proposed - didn't want to be redundant again :)), Diane and IluvMilarian1201.**

 **The interview wasn't meant to be soap opera drama but a means for Jason and Emma to have a chance to turn the public's perception of Jason (and the first time we see Jason truly jealous). You'll also see the thug attack serves a purpose in this and for Jason and Emma's relationship. Everything is done with a purpose. Sometimes when it rains, it pours and it makes you sink or swim.**

 **Jason and Emma have some underlying issues that certain circumstances are forcing them to face and resolve so they have a really strong relationship once they start a family. Er, I mean, if they start a family. ;) It didn't feel like they were ready to jump into having a baby, with all these issues being swept under the rug. One reader pointed out that he/she hopes Jason's worry about feeling like he can't protect Emma won't make him pull away - this is exactly the kind of issue they need to work through. And exactly the kind of reaction readers should be having at this stage because that's Emma's reaction too. Emma has become very secure with him but he's understandably still struggling. Research says that burn victims tend to struggle with self-confidence on and off (or constantly) for the rest of their lives and it's frustrating for the spouse sometimes. I'm trying to keep the story realistic in that aspect. Plus, the Beast is the last one to let his walls fall in the original _Beauty and the Beast_. :)**

* * *

He stirred from slumber in the early afternoon and started to roll from his side to back.

"No!" She dove to stop him, but not before his back pressed against the pillows she'd propped to keep him from fully rolling onto his back.

A cry of pain and he flung into his stomach, burying his face in the mattress as a string of curses poured out of his mouth. His hand crushed the sheets and his back heaved from deep breaths, probably not helping his bruised ribs.

There was nowhere to really touch him that wasn't hurt.

He panted and turned his head to the side to breathe, his eye squeezed shut. The sheet under his face grew wet near his eye - like from tears of pain.

"Hold on, honey." She wrapped the bags of frozen peas in plastic so as not to get the bandage on his back wet. "Let me put this on. The doctor said to try cold packs and see if it helps with the swelling. Ready?" She stood to set the small bag on his back.

"No." He fisted handfuls of the sheets and looked up with a face afraid of more pain.

That look broke her heart. She knelt and stroked his hair, careful of the bruises underneath. "I'll hold up the peas so the weight doesn't hurt. We'll just see if the temperature of the bag feels good or not." She laid a hand on his upper arm that was wider than the span of her hand.

Tears shimmered in his eye. "I can't." His voice broke. "I can't stand any more pain." His bottom lip quivered. "Next it's going to be months in the hospital because the scar tissue is going to die. I can't do it anymore."

Those words and the begging in his voice wrenched her heart. He needed to have a rock right now, someone to pull him through it. "You can do this. We don't know that your face will deteriorate. It's one step at a time. This step right now is only trying cold packs. That's all. It'll help numb the pain. A very tiny spot at first." She slipped her hand into his. "I'm just asking you to be brave for five seconds to see if this helps. That's it. If you say to stop, I'll stop."

Closing his eye in defeat, he gave a small nod. She laid a small corner of the bag on the edge of his back, and his soft gasp of pain melted into a sigh.

"Does that feel better?"

He gave a quiet grunt of agreement and his eye remained closed. The dear man remained silent as she eased three bags of peas onto his back and then set a hand over his in comfort. One bag started to slide, so she grabbed it to reposition before it hurt him.

"Where did you get that ring?" He sounded so exhausted.

She froze while standing over his back yet. Oh great. She'd meant to take it off before he woke up. "Well, you were a bit loopy from pain meds earlier." When he didn't respond, she continued. "You insisted that I wear it."

"I told you about needing to go home tonight, didn't I?" The emotion drained from his voice like he didn't care anymore.

The poor thing didn't feel well and now was disappointed about spoiling the surprise. Kneeling at the side of the bed to look at him, she slipped her hand in his. "Jay, it was so sweet. You were worried about me having it tonight and insisting we go home for the proposal. A proposal happens once, and it was so romantic and beautiful. I don't want a new proposal. This was so innocent and sweet." She smiled and held her left hand to her heart. "I don't want you to redo this either."

His brow furrowed. "I look like hell and was drugged - "

"But that's part of what makes it so precious. When you're on pain meds, you get all sentimental and soft. You kept trying to get up to get the ring so I could have it today on the anniversary." Her heart melted at the memory. "I started crying and you thought it was because I missed my ring, so you said to wear it now so I wouldn't cry anymore and you could propose tonight."

He looked so heartbroken. "I wanted it to be romantic and perfect."

"It _was_ perfect, Jay. And it is romantic. My husband loves me so much that he almost died protecting me, and now I'm nursing him back to health. You're so injured and yet you were so worried about me having the ring today." A watery smile took hold. "It was sweet and innocent - don't ruin it by being disappointed."

That tired blue eye glanced up at her and he simply gave her hand a soft squeeze of acceptance that she was happy.

A distraction would help. "The doctor said to have you up at least three times a day just to walk to the bathroom so you don't get blood clots. Are you up for getting one over with?" She kissed his fingers on the bed.

A tiny shake of his head.

"Do you need the bathroom?"

He barely shook his head and just stared at the bed.

Oh god, he looked...depressed. "I have some water here. Mrs. Yannatou found long straws. You don't even have to move." She grabbed the glass from the nightstand and held the end of the straw to his lips. "Even a sip, honey." He had barely taken any water since leaving the hospital and was becoming dehydrated.

But he just stared at the bed.

"Please, Jason." Her heart fell. "I need you to get better."

"You've played nurse for almost half of the time you've known me. I can't even protect you anymore," he whispered. "Maybe the baby's gone for a reason." His hand pulled away.

He was hurting and humiliated and drugged and scared. She sat back and forced the hurt aside - he didn't realize what he was saying. He couldn't or he wouldn't have said it. "You would divorce me, knowing how much I love you? You would see me endure a loveless marriage because that would be easier for me than loving a man with scars? To have a man climb on me in bed while I pretend he's you so I'm not terrified?"

Horror filled his eye. "I would never want you to marry someone you didn't love."

"It's spending my life alone or marrying someone I don't love because you won't have me."

"Emma." He said her name with the most fervor he'd spoken anything in days.

She held back tears. "Don't say the baby is gone for a reason."

"Emma, I didn't mean - "

The hurt swelled. "Maybe you should think about what you mean next time before you speak. I know you're in pain and upset and not thinking straight from pain pills, but it doesn't mean you can say something like that." She stood. "Mrs. Yannatou will come sit with you." Staying would just result in tears and a fight when he already felt miserable enough. She swept out before he could say anything. The only consolation was he couldn't have fully comprehended what he'd said because Jason wouldn't ever say things were better off with the baby dead.

Something could be said for hard work and heartache. The housekeeper had been about to hand scrub the kitchen floor. Rolling up her sleeves, she grabbed the rag and should've - by all intents and purposes - scrubbed right through the shine of the stone floor with her efforts.

She scrubbed floors for not even five minutes when a slim hand touched her shoulder. When she looked up, Mrs. Yannatou shook her head and held out her hand for the rag. Then the woman pointed upstairs and said something in urgency. Jason must've requested her to come back. Heaving a sigh, she handed over the rag. "Oh, so now he's sorry that he doesn't have the nursemaid of his choosing," she muttered. Of course that wasn't true, but being angry helped squash the hurt from his words.

When she washed her hands and went into the bedroom, her heart stopped. He sat on the edge of the bed with his cane and was trying to get up by himself. Between his back and severely swollen knee yet, he'd hurt himself. "Jason, sit down!" She darted over and caught his arm to stop him.

His brow glistened and he panted in pain. "I thought...you wouldn't come."

"Shhh. I'm here. Lie down." She set aside his cane and helped him lie on his stomach. Grabbing a tissue from the nightstand, she mopped his brow. Then she pulled up the sheet to his waist to keep him modest. "You were going to come find me while completely naked?"

"I can't get myself...dressed, and I needed to...talk to you."

Grabbing the bags of peas that were still quite cold yet, she eased them onto his back. "For heaven's sake, you could've hurt yourself. What's so important that you needed me right now?"

"I needed to tell...you I'm an idiot."

A little of the hurt evaporated.

His arm slid across the bed and he opened his hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean I'm glad the baby is gone." He held tight when she took his hand, and his voice grew thick. "I don't want you to marry anyone else, but sometimes I think it would be better for you. And better for you if I'm not a father. Every time I have medical problems like this, I'm worried that you'll resent having a sickly husband. I have so much baggage - "

"I do too - everyone has baggage. You're not sickly, you just have complications from the fire, which I was fully aware of when we wed. This doesn't count - you were attacked. You have a choice, Jason: we work through these things together as a team and come out stronger, or you push me away and we gradually fall apart. It's really that simple."

"It's not. Emma, we just keep circling back to the hospital. It's just going to happen more and more with age." His voice grew thicker with unshed tears.

"Jason," she laid down on the bed to face him and held his hand. "You don't know that. In all other ways, you're healthy. It's been a bumpy year, that's all. You could never step foot in a hospital again for thirty years. Even if there are routine visits to the hospital, we'll get through them. Maybe I'll be the one who gets sick and is in the hospital all the time. We just take what comes and do it together, alright?"

He squeezed her hand. "Sometimes I feel guilty that I've mostly made your life worse. I didn't think before I spoke. I'm sorry. And for what I said about the baby."

"You have in no way made my life worse. I think you're in pain and stressed and feeling blue. I need you to stop worrying I'm Carolyn. I won't abandon you."

Guilt clouded his eye. "I didn't realize..." A soft sigh filled the silence. "That's what I'm doing, isn't it?"

She gave a soft smile of forgiveness, the weight lifting off. He hadn't meant any of his earlier words. "You were doing good for awhile letting me make my own mistakes. Don't fall back into blaming me for hers."

A slight nod. "Forgive me for being an idiot today?" He seemed so worried that he'd done permanent damage.

She nodded and kissed his hand. "On one condition - you must drink some water."

The poor thing could barely keep his eye open from exhaustion as he drank half the glass when she set the straw to his mouth. "Enough?" His eye drifted closed.

"It's enough for now. Go to sleep, honey." She whispered the words and kissed his hand still locked around hers.

"Love you." The words dragged out in sleepiness. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Setting the glass down, she stroked his hair. "I know you didn't, Jay. I love you. Go to sleep. I'll be right here."

* * *

His stomach, however, had other ideas. It growled louder and longer until he finally woke up a half hour later.

"Hun, you haven't eaten since Saturday morning...no, Friday night because we didn't eat before our jog. The doctor let you off with not eating in the hospital, but you need to now. Why won't you eat?"

He laid on his side with humiliation clouding his eye. "You know why."

Her heart twisted. The drugs left him groggy, and the pain from his back and the mild infection left him unable to lift him arms much to feed himself.

"Jason, I will do it and not think a thing less of you. We can prop you up on your left side and use the angle to our advantage." It would help keep food from coming out of the right side of his lip too. "You can see this as humiliating, or you can see it as a way for us to be partners. I'm worried that I'm going to do a bad job and irritate you, but I'm willing to try."

A dry look crossed his face. "It's feeding someone, not rocket science."

She shrugged. "It's eating, not rocket science." He didn't seem to appreciate his own words thrown back at him. "I've never fed anyone before."

"You won't be drooling and practically spitting up like a baby."

"And neither will you."

"Emma, it's disgusting."

"And throwing up on you wasn't?" She cocked an eyebrow. When that didn't work, she laid her cheek on her hand on the bed to be eye level with him. "Please, Jay. I know you don't want to, but I need you to try." She searched his eye. He needed to hear the truth. "The antibiotics are barely keeping up with the infection. Your back is cut up so bad that I'm scared what'll happen if the infection takes hold." Her hand tightened around his and the words poured out faster and faster in distress. "I couldn't care less how you eat, I'm just getting to the point of being in a panic to get something in you so you don't get weak."

"Emma, Emma." He rubbed her hand with his thumb. "It's alright. I'll try."

A huge sigh of relief escaped.

He sat propped up on his left side with pillows and blankets to keep him high enough. The poor thing broke out in a sweat from pain of moving so much. "How bad is it?"

She peeled off the damp silicone bandage. The few spots where intact skin remained burned an angry red and puffed a bit with infection. "Maybe a little better?" He didn't need to know that it looked worse than yesterday. A call to the doctor and maybe putting him on different antibiotics would help.

"Liar - I was able to shuffle to the bathroom last night, but this afternoon I can barely move."

"It's still very raw." He didn't need to know right now how much it would probably scar. "Let's check your temp."

The thermometer read just under one hundred one degrees. "Let me call the doctor and see if you should switch antibiotics." She grabbed her phone.

"Let me see."

Her eyes bugged. "I'm not showing you what it looks like!"

"A second opinion doesn't hurt. Show me. It hurts like a..." He cleared his throat. "I expect it looks terrible."

That was an understatement. Walking around the bed, she bent down and zoomed in on the worst spot rather than his full back. "It's still fresh." She returned to him and held out the phone.

His brow furrowed. "Send that to him." He sighed. "That's cellulitis and needs IV antibiotics to jump start before it spreads."

Her eyes widened in dread. "Jay, that can be serious. Should we go to the hospital?"

He snorted. "Have a nice drive - I'm not going."

"Jason, I'm serious."

" _I'm_ serious. I'm not going. It can be treated here. And probably pick up less germs," he muttered.

"Do you have supplies in your bag?" She walked over and looked inside it.

"No. If he calls it in to the hospital pharmacy, they'll dispense everything."

She hung up the phone a minute later. "Alright, he's calling it in and said to leave in about thirty minutes to pick it up. Let's feed you while we wait."

Mrs. Yannatou had his favorite foods in the fridge that she cooked last night. The woman said something and then motioned for her to add more green beans to the plate.

"We'll see how hungry he is first."

The woman looked frustrated and grabbed the spoon herself, dropping on another helping. Then she flexed her bicep and tapped it.

She laughed. "Yes, I'll get him strong. He hasn't eaten in days, so we need to just try a little bit first." This was like a bad game of charades trying to use gestures to communicate.

Finally returning to his room with a heaping plate, she sat in the chair facing him and met his hesitant gaze. "I think she fears I don't feed you enough. This might be enough for two meals."

His eyebrow cocked. "Or three."

She peeled the lip bandage off that stretched from the corner to the middle of his mouth. "I'll never understand how you can speak with your lips practically taped together on one side." He needed a fresh lip bandage three times a day, which she'd learned exactly how to do this weekend. It should've been a familiar sight after all these weeks, but it still hurt to see straight in to his tongue. "Does it ever hurt?"

"My ph-ride every time."

Giving him a look that said to stop berating himself, she picked up the plate. "Alright, we have beans, mashed potatoes, and ham." Then she looked at him. "Tell me how you want me to do this."

"Ph-late on the nightstand - you'll need two hands." His cheeks grew pink. "Take the naph-kin."

She did and scooted closer to hold it to his mouth.

"Lay it down." His eye pointed downward.

"Oh." She flushed with embarrassment at getting it wrong already. Spreading it under him to catch any runaway food, she sat back for more instructions.

He swallowed several times but seemed to try holding out to not ask for his mouth to be wiped.

Taking another napkin from the stack, she leaned forward and held it to his lip for a moment, letting the saliva soak up on its own.

When he tried to slide his arm up to pull away the napkin, he only managed to pant in pain without his arm making it very far.

"You are supposed to rest." She frowned and lowered the napkin. "Just tell me what to do."

"Ham ph-irst. Aim for left side."

She cut a smallish piece of ham and scooped it on the fork before holding it to the left side of his mouth...a little too far left because when he opened, his cheek bumped it. It tumbled onto the napkin on the bed. His face grew red in embarrassment.

Her cheeks burned and she snatched it to set it on the side of the plate. "Sorry, that was my fault. Too far left. Okay, let's try again." This time it made it in. She held the napkin to his lip to help while he chewed. When his throat convulsed in a swallow, she eased the napkin away and then smiled. "Ha! One down. That wasn't so hard. By the time we're done, we should enter a feeding contest at a fair - we'd win."

His forehead knit. "They ha-ph those?"

"I doubt they have those." She scooped up another piece. "They should 'cause we'd win, though."

That won a small smile from him and he took another bite. And then his head jerked as he winced.

"Are you alright?"

"Bit my tongue."

"Ohh." She frowned and held the napkin tighter to his mouth so he wouldn't try to use his tongue as a wall to keep in food. "Let me worry about keeping you clean - you just eat, honey."

The green beans proved trickier. After going through an entire napkin within two bites of the mashed potatoes, he said, "That's enough."

She frowned down at the pile of creamy yumminess. "You love mashed potatoes." Then she looked at him. "I promise I'll get the hang of it in a few more bites. Fill your belly, Jay." The dear man needed another wipe from salivating. Dabbing at his mouth, she met his eye.

"You're doing ph-ine. I'm done." His eye drooped with exhaustion.

With a sigh, she gave a final wipe. "Are you ready for the bandage?"

He gave a nod and his eye followed as she got a fresh lip bandage ready. "Thank you." The words came quiet and humble.

Glancing up from her work, she smiled. "I love you, Jay." Butterflies tickled inside her belly.

He cracked a smile. "You look happy."

An embarrassed smile crept up and she looked down at her hands busy opening a bandage. "I am. I never thought you'd let me help you eat." Then she eased her weight onto the bed to sit for a better angle to apply the bandage. "Will you eat meals with me? I've seen all there is to see now."

"In the dark. I may, on occasion, join you for breakfast or lunch."

It was more than currently. She smiled and put on his lip bandage before helping him lie in his stomach. "I'll send Mrs. Yannatou up to sit with you while I run out for your medicine."

The poor man was already asleep.

Mrs. Yannatou's irritated tone traveled through the house when she returned home less than an hour later. She hurried upstairs without even kicking off her shoes.

Jason laid on his side with the woman apparently scolding him. He answered in a sharp tone.

"What is going on?"

Mrs. Yannatou looked up with relief and dragged her around the bed to him, speaking rapidly in a foreign tongue. She pointed to where Jason clutched the sheet to his waist.

His eye squeezed shut like he was in pain. "Get her out," he ordered.

She frowned. "What are you two arguing about?"

"Dear god, Emma, get her out or you'll be changing the sheets in a second." He panted.

The woman held up a basin.

Oh goodness, he wasn't holding the sheets but between his legs. She hurried the housekeeper out and then darted over to help as he worked to sit up. "Jason, you are far too shy. She was just trying to help." Handing him the cane, she sat beside him to offer her arm being there was no safe place to hold onto him.

"We've had this conversation before," he panted. "You're the only one who gets to touch me." He sat ramrod straight with sweat rolling down his brow. "Oh god, shoot me up." His eye closed in agony.

"What?" She blinked.

"Morphine. God, please, Emma." He dropped the cane and leaned his hand on the bed to relieve some of the strain on his back without opening his eye.

"Are you sure? That's more potent than what you had earlier, isn't it?"

"Emma," he begged.

"Okay, okay." She darted over to his medical bag. Then she gave him the injection and wiped his brow while waiting for the drug to take affect.

Within minutes, he seemed far more comfortable and quite coherent, portraying how much he needed the drug.

"Alright, here's your cane." She sat on his right and handed the cane for his left knee that was wrapped and so swollen yet. "On three." Slipping the sheet from his lap so he wouldn't get tangled as she hauled him up, she guided his arm around her shoulders in slow motion to not hurt his back too much.

He panted through it and paused a moment for a break. Then his head tilted down and he paled just a little. "I don't think we're having babies."

"The bruising and swelling will fade, honey. One, two, three." A mix of groans, gasps, and pants from her as much as him got his bulk up.

"Oh Jesus." His eye squeezed shut and his knuckles grew white around the head of the cane. "I can't walk. Oh god. I'm gonna cry."

She glanced down and her eyes widened. Oh dear. He looked far more swollen upright than lying down. "I'll get you some ice when we come back."

"This is repayment for childbirth, isn't it? I swear we'll adopt. Oh god, snip me now while I won't know the difference."

Pressing her lips together, she snorted a suppressed laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing."

"You are." His voice quivered from pain as he shuffled one foot forward. "This is sick retribution."

"No, I don't want you to hurt. But I think if men had to give birth - "

"We would kill ourselves and become extinct. Holy shit, bludgeon me. Cut it all off. I don't care. Oh my god, make it stop," he whimpered.

Grabbing a bag of frozen peas, she set it right there and held it.

His eye shot open and he gasped for a moment at the temperature change. Then his eye rolled back. "Sweet heaven, I'd ask you to marry me if we weren't already."

She giggled and shuffled with him. "Not the best proposal, Jay. I see morphine is your happy drug."

"I should be utterly humiliated, but I could kiss you right now. I will take a whipping any day but don't touch the family jewels," he chattered. This would only last a few minutes of being so pain-free, but it was good to see him more like himself.

In the bathroom, she let him stand alone see if he'd be alright, but he swayed a bit. "Alright, big guy, I'm staying."

"Oh ho, shit," he chuckled - the most that his back and bruised ribs and bruised insides would let him laugh. "I am officially mortified."

"Jay, I held a urinal for you in the hospital." She cracked a smile and set the bag of peas on the counter.

"But I was in too much pain to care. Turn on the water."

Shaking her head, she turned on the sink and then slipped an arm around his front to face backwards to give him privacy. "The doctor didn't by chance check your hormone levels, did he?"

"Oh dear god, have some mercy. That's the least of my problems. Alright."

When she helped him wash his hands, he glanced up at the mirror and startled. A curse leaked out under his breath. "I don't know how you can look at a red eye." Then his eye traveled down his black and blue body muddled with butterfly tape and stitches. "If I didn't look like some horror monster before, I do now."

She shook her head. "It's just injuries. You'll heal, Jay."

His eye met hers in the mirror. "Your photo of my back zoomed in on a small spot. Is it all cut up like that?" Then his eye slid away when she didn't answer. "It'll scar." The saddest smile touched his lips. "I suppose it might make my face look not so bad." His eye lifted to meet hers in the mirror, overflowing with heartbreak and shame.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, she kept her voice steady. History said he would pull away and become self-conscious all over again. Please, let this time be different. "We're doing our best to prevent scarring. It can't be as scarred as your face because it's not a burn. But I won't care what it looks like, my Jay."

A little of the shame faded.

Hope flickered. "Even if it hypertrophies, you hold your head high. Every time I see the scars, I'll be proud of you and only see a brave, handsome man who bore them to spare my life."

He seemed to weigh those words and finally gave a slight nod. "Your opinion is the one that matters. You're the one who will see it the most." That was it. He seemed at peace with whatever the outcome would be.

She held the peas on for the shuffle back to bed. "Do you want this on in bed?"

"No, it didn't hurt much until gravity." He only gasped and panted a little getting back in bed.

"Alright, hun. I'm afraid you will be my guinea pig for my first IV." She washed and then set out the supplies.

Even high on drugs, he was a good teacher.

Running her finger over his arm like he'd shown to check for rolling veins, she bit her lip to concentrate. "There's something oddly hot about the way your veins are so chiseled." She froze. Oh no, that'd been said aloud. Maybe he hadn't heard.

A soft chuckle. "I'm not convinced your calling isn't the medical field."

"Hush." How embarrassing. She followed his directions, making a successful stick on the second try. "Sorry. You're getting a bruise." She frowned at her first attempt on his left arm that sported a bruise while she taped the IV in place on his right arm.

"Most make pin cushions out of their first guinea pig. You did well." He glanced up at where she hung the bag on a coat hanger off the bed post. "That's better than some experienced nurses, Em."

She flushed at his praise and looked at her handiwork.

"I have another task, love. These stitches on my chest hurt from being too tight, and you're going to replace them with butterfly strips." His eye drooped a little from the morphine catching up to him or maybe the exhaustion from his jaunt.

"Uh, no." She folded her arms.

"Uh, yes." He closed his eye. "It's my birthday - you have to do what I say. If I wasn't broken, I'd demand a lap dance too."

She burst out laughing. "You would not."

"Wouldn't I?" A hint of a smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

"No more morphine for you in a few days, or heaven knows what you'll do when you're more able-bodied." She walked over to his bag.

He sighed. "I'll need a naked nurse to get me back into shape."

"Hush." Her cheeks burned and she returned with his bag after washing and gloving. "Should I cut one stitch at a time and put a butterfly on?" She looked up from digging in his bag.

That blue eye amid the sea of red didn't quite focus, but a soft look touched it. "You're so beautiful."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Jay, we need to do your stitches."

The man didn't seem to hear a word. "I was certain the police weren't going to make it in time. I'd die for you, Emma." He reached out with his right hand, despite the pain from his fracture and the tug on his back that it caused.

Everything blurred behind the tears. "And you almost proved it. I'd die for you too, Jay." She sank to the floor at the side of the bed and leaned into his hand that cupped her cheek.

His thumb stroked her cheek. "You fought like a tiger. You don't need to rely on me to protect you anymore - you took out three of them yourself."

She shook her head. "I do need you. And they would've killed me if you hadn't protected me." She searched his eye. "There's a part of me that will always be a little frightened of men. Even with Mr. Henry, I wandered the beach with him in the dark only because you said to stay within sight - I knew you'd be watching over me."

"I'm not going to stop protecting you, but it's good for you to have more confidence that you can protect yourself."

Touching her forehead to his, she closed her eyes. "It feels safer having my knight near," she whispered.

His lips brushed against hers and he smiled when she opened her eyes. The beating had given his self-confidence a hard hit too, and it was important for him to know he was still needed.

Something scratched her forehead. She pulled back a little and looked at the butterfly tape angling out from his eyebrow. Buried in the black of his eyebrow was a little knot. "Ohhh, you even have a stitch in your eyebrow. Poor baby. You're stitched everywhere." She stroked his stubbly cheek that couldn't be shaved yet because of all the knicks and butterfly tape here and there.

"A bad spot for a scar?" His eye locked on her face like her opinion of even a tiny scar cutting through his eyebrow was so important.

Pulling back a bit to study his face and see beyond the red eye and bruises and cuts, she smiled. "I think your eyebrow is the only one that will scar on your face. A bit badass." She held back a smile.

His smile grew as much as his injuries would allow. "Sometimes I think you wouldn't have minded me so much as a teenager. I think you have a secret penchant for badass boys."

She giggled and got to her feet. "You distracted me and now my gloves are dirty. Behave." Exchanging the gloves for fresh ones, she dug out butterfly tape and suture scissors.

A smile still lingered. "You know I wouldn't let any other nurse poke at me as much."

That elicited a belly laugh. "I know! You have forced me to learn nursing skills because you're such a bad patient."

He frowned. "I'm one hundred percent compliant if you're my nurse." When she cocked an eyebrow, he looked sheepish. "Ninety percent."

"Mm. Your fingers aren't swollen anymore. After this, the arm brace is going on for your fracture. The doctor said. No arguing."

"Give me a kiss and I'll wear it."

She leaned down and pecked a kiss on his lips with a smile.

The flirtation faded and he soon grew quiet as she switched out the stitches for butterfly tape. By the last stitch swap out, he was asleep.

The poor thing only roused enough the rest of the day to take water that she pushed at him. A call to the doctor assured that it was alright if he wouldn't take food again for another day or two. The fever gradually came down, but all he did was sleep.

* * *

"It's so good to be out of bed," he sighed in pleasure three days later as he straddled a chair shirtless in the bedroom to take the strain off his back.

"You look so much better. I think the different antibiotic and sleeping so much did you a world of good." She finished taking out the IV. Then she sat in a chair and peeled off the lip bandage before lathering his face, working around the butterfly strips on his chin and cheek. "I'm glad you don't have a beard."

He cracked a smile. "Not a good look for me?"

"You don't look bad, I'm just not a beard girl." When he smiled, she picked up her razor. "Don't move." The blade glided down his throat.

He chuckled.

"Don't move!"

"Sto-ph making faces." He used a tissue to dab at the corner of his mouth that didn't sport a lip bandage at the moment.

"I'm not making faces!" She bit her lip and maneuvered around a knick on his cheek. Her eyebrows rose and she squinted. Oh goodness, she was making faces. "It helps me work. Close your eye if you're going to laugh."

"I feel well enough I can probably shave myself." A smile lightened his voice.

"I'm capable and you shouldn't strain your back muscles yet." The man liked the babying - if his lack of arguing and complacency the next couple minutes meant anything.

"Alright," she sighed in relief. "Your throat is still intact. Ready for your bath?"

That blue eye, surrounded by soft pink instead of red now, smiled. It wasn't lust or desire...it was a tender and intimate gaze. He seemed to be more comfortable with his body and less hesitant to let her see it today.

Her phone rang. "It's Mom." She picked it up. "Hi."

"Hi, baby. How are you holding up? How's he doing?"

She smiled at him and set a hand over his on his knee. "I'm fine. He looks much better today. Do you want to talk to him?" When she raised her eyebrows in question if he was up for it, he gave a nod.

"If he's not too tired."

Hitting the speaker button so he wouldn't need to lift his arm, she set it on her leg while she used a towel to wipe the stray spots of shaving cream from his face.

He smiled, eating up every minute of the coddling. "Hello, Becky."

A soft sniffle came through the line. "Emma called on the weekend and said what happened. You saved my baby. Thank you. Thank you." Mom burst into tears.

He looked uncomfortable from the praise and glanced at her like he didn't know what to say.

Her heart melted. A true hero who didn't know how to accept a thank you for saving a life. "Mom, don't cry."

"Stop blubbering and making JJ embarrassed," Nana's voice cut through the line. "You holding in there, JJ?"

Relief swept through his face at the escape from the thank yous. "Emma's doing a good job of taking care of me. Each day is better."

"Do you two need us to come out?"

He looked to her to answer that question.

"We're doing alright." And he would be alright. The relief swept up anew and her lip quivered.

"Can we call back later? Emma was in the middle of helping me shave."

"Sure. Love you both."

"Love you," he said absently and hit the disconnect button. Then he pushed himself up with a soft gasp of pain and limped a step closer on his bad knee.

When he tugged her hand, she stood and stepped into his arms, burying her face against his chest as the tears poured out.

"It's alright, princess. Everything's alright now."

His arms couldn't raise above her waist, but it was enough to just touch him and hear the beating of his heart.

"We haven't enjoyed the beach one bit this weekend. Let's go outside before the sun gets too bright. Come, sweetheart. You're too stressed from all this nursing." The man grabbed his cane and her hand and limped toward the door. "Grab a blanket, love."

She brushed away the tears. "Jason, you've only just been out of bed this morning. Can you even do the stairs?"

"We'll find out." He grabbed his cell phone and shoved it in his shorts pocket, not waiting for her.

Swiping the extra unused towel from his shave, she trotted after him.

A slight sheen covered his brow by the time they maneuvered down the stairs.

Mrs. Yannatou hurried from the kitchen toward him, clearly scolding like he shouldn't be up and about yet. The man ignored her and limped out to the patio. Then he stopped on the deck and stared at the staircase with a long, frustrated sigh. "I forgot there are more stairs."

"Let's just sit on the patio. You don't need sand in your wounds anyways." She let go of his hand and pulled one of the patio chairs away from the table for him to straddle. Draping the towel over the back of it to pad his bruised chest, she returned to him and helped him limp to his seat.

He sighed in relief as he sank into the chair and leaned forward against the towel. "Sweet mercy, this is good."

"Should I put up the table umbrella? You probably shouldn't be in the sun without sunscreen." He might overheat from his scars too.

"Em, stop." He rested his cheek against the towel and closed his eye like he was in heaven. "A few minutes in the morning sun won't kill me." The dear man seemed to fall asleep under the warmth of the sun and the salty air blowing off the ocean.

She sat in a chair beside him, the worry and stress of the past few days floating away with the breeze.

"Would you go upstairs and fetch everything in the front pocket of my suitcase?"

"I thought you were asleep." She looked at him in surprise.

He smiled but kept his eye shut. "Just enjoying being outside again. Actually, put on the one thing and fetch the rest, please, love." A devilish smile touched his mouth.

Cocking an eyebrow in suspicion, she returned upstairs. Her sunglasses and a pair of men's mirror sunglasses oversized enough to help hide his missing eye were in the suitcase. Something else brushed her fingers. She pulled it out and her mouth fell open. A yellow bikini.

"Oh dear heaven." No, it had to be a napkin or bookmark. This couldn't possibly cover everything. The naughty brute had promised nothing sexual this weekend. She reached inside in hope that maybe the swimsuit had ripped. Pulling out a long rectangular strip of material, her nerves calmed a little. At least he had bought a skirt coverup, although it would barely cover.

She stepped out onto the deck with her hair in a ponytail and her tortoise shell sunglasses on. The halter top bikini accented her small chest in a flattering way. The bottom wasn't a thong but couldn't quite be confused for panties either. Thankfully the tiny skirt covered what short, shorts would've.

The man perked up with a grin as she handed him his sunglasses, and she reclined in the lounge chair to his left. Ignoring him would be best - that naughty smile he'd be sure to have would only start uncontrolled blushing. Of course she glanced from the corner of her eye.

He had to bow his head down to slip on the sunglasses, the tiny lump of what had been reconstructed for his ear and a bend in the glasses arm aiding in keeping the sunglasses on. Then he laid his cheek on top of the towel that he'd pillowed. The man grinned like an idiot.

Unable to resist, she bent up a leg and closed her eyes like she was going to sunbathe. "I can't see you behind your sunglasses. You should nap for a few minutes, if you're not," she drawled.

"Oh, my eye is very much open and enjoying the view, sweetheart."

Something lifted her skirt. Her eyes flew open and she swatted his hand.

He chuckled and let it drop. "You wouldn't have worn it if you objected. I was hoping that bikini would've been a little small for you. That bikini does not leave the house."

As if on cue, a speedboat raced by, accompanied by catcalls and whistles.

His head whipped up and he snatched off his sunglasses, paying for the movement with a gasp of pain. It didn't stop him from throwing a threatening look at the boat, though.

She cracked a smile. "Maybe we _should_ go for a walk on the beach."

A dark glare was his answer as he slipped on his sunglasses. "Put some clothes on," he grumbled.

With a laugh, she went in the house and returned with a towel. She draped it over the railing to block anyone's view from the water. "I'm only wearing this because you had a terrible birthday." Then she floated into the chair again and reclined.

The grin returned. "Wear that all day, and I just might be healed by morning." That gaze burned through his sunglasses.

She sighed to feign disinterest. "Too bad you can't keep your word because taking care of you for nearly a week has left me wanting something, Jay."

"Has it now?" He sounded very intrigued.

A breathless sigh and she draped her arms overhead and closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the sun. "Mmm. I'm in need of a repeat activity from last week." She peeked.

Even with the sunglasses on and obscuring a good portion of his face, he clearly drooled and hung on every word. "Are you in need of a companion for this activity?"

Opening her eyes, she smiled and got up. "There is this one man..." She straddled his good knee and sat, his head turning to follow her every movement.

"Mm, never a good thing." He smiled.

Her heart skipped a beat. Sweet heaven, he looked so hot shirtless and in those sunglasses like a big bad SEAL. "Don't look at me like that," she giggled and interrupted her own story.

"Like what?" His smile grew and his hand rested on her hip.

"With that devilish smile and your sunglasses like some badass military man." The butterflies didn't leave this time.

He chuckled. "If you want badass, I suggest you look for a SEAL, sweetheart." The way he said 'sweetheart' wasn't with the tender intimacy like usual but a man trying to seduce a woman.

"Oh." She pursed her lips and rested her hands on his biceps - one of the few areas where the bruises were fading. "I've heard they're dangerous." Tilting her head down a bit, she batted her eyes.

"Very." His baritone dropped to a deeper pitch as she leaned a bit closer.

"Violent?" Her breath mingled with his.

"Only to protect. They can be just as gentle," he whispered.

"Strong?" she purred.

A low rumble of agreement erupted from his throat, his lips beginning to touch hers.

Turning her head at the last moment, his lips landed on her neck. "So this man..."

He growled with need and nibbled her neck. "Your throat vibrates in the most delicious way," he mumbled, his hand locking tighter on her hip.

Her toes curled. "Um, this man...I don't remember what I was going to say." Her heart beat too fast.

"A man for your activity."

She held his biceps tighter to keep from wrapping her arms around him. "Oh god, Jay, stop," she panted. "The housekeeper might see." Heat coiled tighter and tighter.

His head lifted and he smiled. "Was I distracting you?"

The woman reflecting in his sunglasses looked star-dazed and flushed. "You're a rake." She ran a hand over her ponytail to collect herself. "I should sleep without any clothes on tonight to teach you."

The incessant grin wouldn't leave his face. "You overestimate how much of me needs to be healed in order for you to safely make a threat like that."

Her cheeks burned, even the breeze not enough to help. "The doctor said not for another week."

"The doctor doesn't know my motivation." His forehead wrinkled like he cocked an eyebrow. Those perfect white teeth glinted in a cocky smile.

She stood and fixed her ponytail that the breeze pulled apart. "You will behave."

He couldn't lift his arm much, so he caught behind her knee and pulled her closer again. "What did this man do that was so earth-shattering?" The smile still lingered.

With a shy smile, she bit her bottom lip and straddled his large thigh again. "He growls something fierce and sends men running."

"All but you?"

"All but me."

"Brave lass. Why on earth would you want to stay with such a brute?"

The smile grew. "Because even when he snarls, he's gentle. And when he doesn't growl, he's very sweet." She trailed a finger over his bottom lip that wasn't swollen anymore from the attack. "And - "

His soft, pink tongue swept out and pulled her finger into his mouth. The evil man suckled and stroked it with his tongue. "Mmmmm," he purred deep in his throat.

Her mouth ran dry as she melted into a puddle.

Then his head slowly drew back, releasing her finger. "You taste as good as you look. Forgive me, you were speaking of some brute. And what, sweetheart?"

"And you can lick me wherever you want," she breathed. Then she blinked. "I mean, um, you should behave in case Mrs. Yannatou is watching." She cupped her burning cheeks to hide the flush from him.

He offered a gentle smile. "My apologies. I shall behave myself." No comment about her slip up came forth.

"Are you thirsty? You should sit under the umbrella. It's getting warm." She got up and stepped back, fanning herself with her hand.

"I'm perfectly fine." A grin split his face. "I will keep while you get a drink."

She hurried inside, thankfully not running into the housekeeper. The man needed to keep hydrated and cool so he wouldn't overheat from his scars being in the sun, so she filled two glasses with water. Then rummaging through the fridge, she pulled out a lemon, squeezed the juice of it into the water, and popped a straw into his glass.

Jason rested his cheek against the towel on the back of the chair when she came out. Summer songs floated from his cell phone on the table next to him.

"Here." She handed him a glass and sat back in the chair beside him.

The man took a sip and shuddered. "What on earth is this?"

With a frown, she took a sip of her own. It tasted fine. "I made lemonade. Why?"

"Oh." His eyebrow rose up from behind his sunglasses. "Thank you."

"Don't you like lemonade?"

"Oh, no, it's good. I was expecting water." He took another sip and barely suppressed another cringe.

"You don't like it." She frowned and sat up.

"It's just a tad bitter. Did you forget the sugar?"

"Sugar?" Her brow snapped together. "You don't put sugar in homemade lemonade."

The corner of his mouth curled. "The rest of us humans do, sweetheart."

"Oh." Her face flamed. She got up and took his glass.

But he didn't let go. "No, it's fine, love. It's just different than what I was expecting." As if to prove his point, he took another sip. And started coughing.

"You're choking it's so bad!"

He shook his head. "I promise I swallowed wrong." The man took another drink to calm the coughs. But he half laugh and half coughed again. "I'm sorry, it's just really strong." He handed over the glass.

With a roll of her eyes and a smile, she took it inside.

A couple teaspoons of sugar and she took a sip. It didn't taste like anything. Maybe a few more. She took a sip. Hm. That had more flavor.

He limped in on his cane and took off his sunglasses. "Are you alright? You've been gone for a bit."

"Here. I fixed it." She smiled and trotted the glass over to him.

His eyebrow rose as he looked at the cloudy glass. "Thank you." He took a sip and smiled. "Mmm. It's good." Except he looked like he wanted to grimace.

Her shoulders sagged. "It's still not good? I put in five teaspoons of sugar."

He chuckled and set a hand on her lower back. "Sweetheart, everyone likes it different. It's not that you're doing it wrong." When she sighed in defeat, he replied, "Here, I'll show you how I like it."

"Sit. You shouldn't be doing anything." She reached to stop him.

"If I sit around for one more day, I'm going to go insane. I can handle making lemonade." He limped to the sink and filled a glass with water. Then the man turned and opened the fridge. He looked at the lemons on the bottom shelf. "Alright, maybe I need a little help."

She walked over and bent down to grab a lemon. While she washed it, he scooped two teaspoons of sugar in the glass. Then she slit the lemon and squeezed it into the glass.

"Whoa, whoa!" He caught her wrist to stop her. "Not a half of the lemon, love. How much did you use when you made them?"

"A half lemon each." She frowned and looked at him.

He pressed his lips together like he held back a laugh. "So you take it straight up with a half lemon. I like just a couple tablespoons of lemon."

Her nose wrinkled. "You don't make lemonade, you make sugar water."

A laugh bubbled out of him. "See? If I would've made you a lemonade, you wouldn't have liked it. We learned something new about each other."

He was being so sweet about it that the embarrassment faded.

"Where are the straws?" He looked around.

She slid open the silverware drawer, revealing a stack of straws next to the forks. Plucking one out, she dropped it in his glass.

"There's an obvious place for them. Thank you, love." He smiled and pecked a kiss on her cheek. Then he took a sip. "Ahhh, perfect. I take that back - I do like it with a little more lemon. Good job." He patted her hip and limped toward the patio with his glass.

Out on the patio, she worked on her laptop while he tried to work on his phone while lying on his belly under the umbrella shade.

An angry sigh a few minutes later made her look up. "What's wrong?"

"There are stories all over the Internet about those thugs attacking us." He laid on his stomach in the chair and scrolled through his phone.

"For heaven's sake, why do you go on those gossip sites, Jay? They're just trash."

He didn't seem to hear. "Oh, this should be good. David Henry posted one," he growled and began to read.

 _"Billionaire and Wife Attacked_

 _On Saturday morning about eight o'clock while on a jog, Dr. Jason Port and his wife -_

"Like you don't have a name," he scoffed in disgust and continued.

 _"Were attacked along the running trail off Beach Lane. Six men in their twenties, who call themselves the Black Chain, attacked the couple, according to police reports. Police have been after the gang for months for five other serious attacks to men on bike trails._

 _Authorities believe the gang targets only men, as Mrs. Port and other women at the attacks received no injuries other than bruises from being dragged away from their male companions._

 _Dr. Port's attack was the most violent - involving heavy tree branches, a steel pipe, and a one-inch wide metal chain. Authorities report internal bleeding, a fractured arm, bruised ribs, a battered knee, a multitude of abrasions requiring sutures, and severe whip wounds on the back as Dr. Port's injuries. He was rushed to the hospital in critical condition but medical staff were able to stabilize him, and he was released a few days later."_

He snorted. "There's a run-on sentence."

She rolled her eyes at his criticism. He disliked Mr. Henry for no good reason.

 _"Permanent damages are yet unknown._

 _The Black Chain has been arrested and face several charges for their crimes, the most severe as attempted murder for Dr. Port._

"That's it." He frowned.

She smiled. Mr. Henry had kept it factual and accurate, neither painting Jason in good or poor light.

"He didn't include any of the slurs about my face or..." He scrolled through the page like he looked for where the barb would be hidden. Then he froze and looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses. "You told him about the ransom."

"Some people can be trusted, you just need to give them a chance." She smiled and swiped his phone. Then she looked up Mr. Henry's phone number that must be in Jason's phone. There. She hit Call.

"What are you doing?" He sounded suspicious.

"It never hurts to show some appreciation. He did us a favor - "

"David Henry," the reporter answered.

"Mr. Henry, Emma Port." She smiled.

Jason did an eye roll and made a mocking face of Mr. Henry answering the phone.

She gave a light kick to his chair, just enough to let him know to knock it off. Her mouth fell open when he stuck his tongue out.

"Can I help you, Mrs. Port?"

Getting up to walk over to the other side of the patio to ignore Jason, she used her sweetest voice possible. "We saw the piece you wrote on the attack and wanted to thank you for keeping it factual."

"You're surely welcome, ma'm. How is he doing? Strictly off the record."

She turned and glanced at Jason, who slashed a hand over his throat to end the call. Then he grunted in pain from the movement. "He's was able to get out of bed today, but he's still pretty sore."

"Glad to hear it. It sounds like he was lucky."

Her stomach churned at the memory of sitting in the ER for that god-awful hour of not knowing if he'd be alright. "That's what the doctors said too. He was happy with your piece."

Jason yanked off his sunglasses and glared in warning. She held up her hands like, 'what?' in response.

"Was he? I think perhaps you're being generous, Mrs. Port. I don't think your husband would like anything in the media about you or himself." Mr. Henry's voice held a smile.

Turning away from Jason, she looked out over the beach and smiled. "Maybe there's a little truth to that." Then her smile faded. "I'm sure you heard all of the tape." Particularly the names those terrible men had called him.

Silence.

"I appreciate you omitting certain parts." She leaned her elbows on the railing.

"I thought about what you said, and certain people might take it as an invitation to target him if they found said details on the tape. He's targeted enough as is without adding more fuel to the fire. About that interview piece..."

An arm reached around and tried to snatch the phone. She spun around and threw Jason a scolding look, holding out her hand against his chest to keep him back. "Yes?"

"Would your husband be more receptive to another interview? Off the record. I heard him in the tape - that it sounds like he climbed over you to protect you right before the police came. He loves you. The public has never seen that side of him, and if I can understand that side of him better, it will help in writing the piece. I won't allude to your marriage much, but in other ways it will give me a better feel of what he's truly like."

Jason must've heard because he looked angry and reached for the phone again.

She jumped over the chair and hurried down the steps to get away from Jason's grabby fingers.

He looked over the balcony above and glared, knowing full well that he couldn't chase in his condition.

"Let me talk to him and see. I'd like to give you another chance to get to know him better, but I'm not so sure he'd be keen on another interview." She glanced up at him.

The man looked fit to be tied. "What?! He can shove it where the sun doesn't - "

She slapped a hand over the mouthpiece in mortification and hurried closer to the waves to drown him out. "Maybe give me a couple days, Mr. Henry."

"Yes, ma'm. And I've had plenty of stories shoved where the sun don't shine. I can be patient," he chuckled.

Her face burned in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. He's not usually so hostile."

"He's not used to sharing you, Mrs. Port. It's understandable. I'll look for your call by early next week."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, ma'm. Bye."

She returned to the deck.

His glare burned through behind his sunglasses from where he stood leaning his hip against the railing. "Is your date over?" He practically growled.

Her eyebrows shot up. "You could not have behaved any more like a two year old. That was embarrassing, and I'm tired of apologizing for your lack of manners with him."

He snorted. "I don't want you to apologize for it. He's a worm."

"He's helping us!" She laughed in shock. "You're being a jerk to him - "

"Because he has the hots for my wife!" he barked and pointed a finger at the ground. "He will not come in our house and flirt with my wife!"

Tossing his phone back on his chair, she folded her hands over her chest. "I have not flirted - "

"He has! He has you comfortable and eating out of his hand!"

"He's helping clear your name and putting up with your tantrums in the meantime!" Her mouth fell open. "It's like you're jealous and can't stand the thought of me trusting any man but you!"

Silence. He looked down and pulled off his sunglasses, tossing them onto the table nearby. Then he sank onto the chair, leaning forward a bit to ease the strain on his back. "I am jealous." He said it so quiet. "I trust that you wouldn't do anything to ever be disloyal, but...Em, I don't think you see it." His eye rose to meet hers. "You don't realize how beautiful and intelligent and sweet you are. I don't think he intends anything by it in earnest, but he _is_ sniffing around you more than is appropriate."

Kneeling at his feet and taking his hands, she searched his eye. "And I think you are perhaps more sensitive than most men would be. I'm not discrediting what you're saying - I'm just saying perhaps look at it under a different lens. He's a reporter digging. You have to trust my instincts a little too. He strikes me as genuine and like a man who could be a strong ally to us. I'm not asking you to like him, just tolerate him."

A long-winded sigh escaped him. "He's so eager to help - what's in it for him?"

"An exclusive with a billionaire. He has reason to kiss our bums, Jay - this could be the start of him getting exclusive interviews with people. It could be a big career jump for him."

An evil smile tugged his mouth.

"And you aren't going to ruin it."

He rolled his eye.

Instincts said that in time, Jason and Mr. Henry may not become best friends but they would become great allies.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! I was super pumped to hear from a new reader who has worked in the burn unit and is enjoying the story!**

 **Several readers over the course of the story have suggested writing from another point of view. When I was in the National Romance Writers' Association with several very well published authors in my local group, one severe criticism they had of my work was writing more than one point of view (POV). It's only acceptable if it's from the two main characters' POVs, but it has to be a full chapter at a time and done with very specific rules. At this stage of my writing, that would be all work and no "play." I feel that my writing suffers when I try to take too big of a learning jump at a time.**

 **Writing from Trudy's or Pete's POV would be considered a severe "newbie error" I'm told because they are side characters. As interesting as it would be to write from Jason's POV, I feel the story has progressed too far for a switch up like that. Also, I think this is more "real" because you don't know what a spouse's thoughts are. One of the strengths of this story is the bond Jason and Emma developed is because of the way they communicate. Insight into Jason's mind would cause a loss of some of that.**

 **I know what you're saying about going back and re-reading the story because of getting so deep in the weeds. I tend to go back about 5 chapters and re-read, but every other story I go back and read the whole series. My intent is to ease Pete and Trudy back into the story with certain upcoming events. I intentionally let them fall to the sides to put the sole focus on Jason and Emma for a bit. :)**

 **During their restaurant scene with the mask, I listened to "Unsteady" by X Ambassadors. Edit out the parts where the singer talks to his parents, I envisioned it like Jason talking to Emma. He finally surrenders to her completely and acknowledges that it's her who keeps him steady. And then he rescues her right back.**

* * *

"This is looking so good, Jay." She peeled off the bandage on his back intended more to control the scarring than truly needing to be covered still two weeks later. His poor back would always carry long crosshair scars from the whipping, but the hypertrophying remained minimal. Perhaps love was blind or maybe the fact that he earned the scars to protect her skewed her view of them...but the scars made him more beautiful and handsome.

His knee bounced with anxiousness. "Just yank it off, Em."

"You're so impatient." Goodness, he certainly was excited to see the little black dress.

"Of course I am. It's been three weeks of waiting for my birthday."

She cracked a smile. After nights of cuddling in bed and talking about anything and everything, it felt right to become intimate again. Jason's suggestion of setting a date to make love maybe helping to see if it would be too soon...it seemed to work because anxiety wasn't building. Tonight was the date set, but the sweet man had made it very clear there wouldn't be blame if she backed out at the last minute. He even stopped talking about it the last couple days, like he didn't remember - perhaps so she could conveniently feign forgetting, if she wanted. He probably didn't realize it, but his kisses grew a bit more passionate the past couple days. Clearly he hadn't forgotten about tonight. "Are you expecting something in particular?"

"I want to see that dress."

Smooth - he hadn't tripped on that trap set. He probably wouldn't bring up sex until being in the middle of it, bless his heart. She smiled and peeled the rest of the bandage off. "This goes back on when we get home."

He shot up and spun on his heel to catch her about the waist. "Oh ho," he grunted in pleasure with a grin, "You look so beautiful." The words purred passed his lips, his eye drinking in her shoulder-length curls and sparkly, thigh-length black dress accentuated with silver high heels. "Ohh, happy birthday to me." The grin lit up his face as his hands trailed over every curve.

A flush crept up. "Do you like it?" Only a tiny hint of a scar cut through his eyebrow, somehow adding to his sexy looks. Her heart skipped a beat.

He grunted in delight, that crazy grin not leaving his face.

"Get your shirt on," she giggled and wiggled out of his hands. Then she threw out the old bandage before grabbing her black clutch on his bed.

The man followed and grabbed his white dress shirt off the bed. A soft hiss of pain escaped when he tried to shrug it over his shoulders.

Hurrying to help, she pulled it over his shoulders and smoothed her hands over the angry muscles. "Is it better with the physical therapy?" His poor back had more damage than originally thought, but the doctors swore his range of motion would improve with therapy.

"I can bend down to tie my own shoes now and don't walk like an ape anymore." He offered a small, brave smile and buttoned his shirt. Avoiding an outright answer seemed to always be his response. He improved a little each day, but it seemed like he had begun to accept that he might never have full use of his back again.

"You'll be able to stand fully straight again in time." She looped the tie around his neck being he couldn't lift his arms that much yet. "I think you're handsome." She stood on her toes, and he bent at the waist to accept the kiss on the lips.

"Then I shall ignore the stares tonight. If my wife is content with me, I shall be satisfied." He knotted his tie.

She smiled. He made a strong effort lately to take her at her word that his physical limitations and scars didn't matter. When he reached for the suit jacket on the bed, she intercepted. "Should you be wearing something this confining yet?"

"It forces my shoulders back like the exercises I have to do."

"That's different and not for hours straight. You're going to hurt by the end of the night." Her stomach knotted. The man had no patience with his body. "This isn't the military, Jason. You don't need perfect posture."

He pulled the coat free and shrugged it on with a grimace, his words coming out a bit breathless. "If you don't stop coddling, it'll take a year to get back into shape."

"By using an exercise routine that happens to match SEAL physical training?" She cocked an eyebrow.

The man held up a finger with a raised eyebrow. "Don't you say it."

"Honey, there's a reason why SEALS retire by age thirty-five or so. Plus, you've been injured."

That blue eye pierced. "Some men are on active missions until they're forty. I am _not_ old."

"I did not say you're old." She kissed his finger that still pointed. "You were already discharged - there's no need to keep pushing yourself..." Her words trailed off when he glared. Change the subject. "Um, am I driving or is Pete?"

He didn't reply but just stood there with an irritated look.

Pressing her fingers to her mouth, she hid a smile. Goodness, he was not taking turning thirty-five well.

"This is not funny." He grabbed the mask off the bed and headed for the hall. "Maybe I should've second thought _cradling robbing,"_ he turned and spat the words while adjusting his neckcollar before continuing out the door, "before I married you."

Oh, the man could pout. She hung back a minute to get control of the smothered laughter. Then she trotted into the hall after him. "You're only three and a half years older than me."

He put on the mask and kept his gaze forward as she fell into step on his left. "I was saying sentences by the time you were born. I guess that makes me a _perverted old man_ going after a younger woman."

The man made it so tempting to make one teasing comment. "Oh, you have to get prostate exams now, don't you?" She gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth to feign horror and hide the smile. Of course he was still too young yet.

His feet slammed to a dead stop and his mouth fell open. "That's forty!" He tossed her over his shoulder with a soft grunt of discomfort to his back and swatted her bottom. "Sassy brat. You'll pay for that comment later."

She giggled and pushed up on his shoulder to look over her back. "No, you'll need to go to bed when we get home - I think eight is geriatric bedtime."

The man set her down with a soft groan of pain that she overlooked. "I'll have you know I can beat SEAL times for men almost fifteen years younger than me..." His words faded and he paled. "Dammit, that sounds old."

"Sweetie, you're not old. The doctor re-ran the hormone panel and said you're above average, even though the pain meds are likely still somewhat suppressing testosterone levels." The dear man needed an ego boost. Leaning against his chest, she tilted her head back and purred, "You're as virile as a teenager."

That caught his attention. He backed her up into a spare bedroom and pressed her up against the wall as his hands slid the skirt up. "God save me," he gasped and his eye rolled back in pleasure, "you're wearing thigh-high stockings." His heart pounded against her chest.

She flicked her tongue over her bottom lip and gave a shy smile from beneath her lashes.

"You're going to kill me." The dark look in his eye sent her up in smoke.

* * *

He sat in the back seat of the car with a hand on her thigh. His thumb stroked with anxiety and absentmindedness as his eye focused out the window on his immediate right. Tension colored every line of him.

"Jay, we don't have to go out for dinner. I'll make you something at home and - "

With a shake of his head, a heartfelt sigh escaped him. "Things will never be different without trying."

"But we don't have to try on your birthday celebration." She laid her head against his shoulder, not minding the tight quarters of the middle back seat if it meant being closer to him.

"Are you worried something will happen?"

"No. You shouldn't be worried about anything either - the restaurant owner was more than accommodating to set us up in the private dining room."

He snorted. "Only because you bribed him with fifty thousand dollars."

She frowned and sat up to look at his profile. "You said I should take a hundred thousand and decide where to donate it. The elderly owner and his wife were thrilled that our money helped them rebuild their restaurant after it burned down. He brought it up on his own that we can have the private room whenever we want because he considers us patrons."

"Emma, he gives us the private room because anyone who sees me eat will run screaming." He threw her an exasperated look.

"It is a courtesy, just like how the banks take you up to the VP offices for simple transactions. And there is nothing wrong with your eating. Don't assume he means it in the worst way." She slipped her hand into his.

That blue eye filled with so much worry, focusing on her. "Do you want to go out with me? I won't be offended if you want to eat at home."

With a soft smile, she brought his hand to her lips. "You tell me what my answer will be, Jay."

A soft sigh of defeat served as his reply.

The moment Pete opened the car door, Jason stepped out and then turned to offer her a hand. He released a deep breath and ran his free hand down the front of his suit.

"Enjoy a night out with your wife, sir." Pete gave an encouraging smile. "I will be parked right out front."

When she got out with his aid, his shoulders straightened as much as possible - to the common bystander he didn't appear to slouch but to someone who knew him, it was noticeable. "Return in a couple hours, please." He looked at Pete.

"I have a book I've been meaning to finish. It's nice weather to sit in the car with the windows down." Pete planted his feet. She slipped Pete a grateful smile - he wanted to be on standby just in case Jason needed a fast escape.

Jason seemed too stressed to comment further and led the way inside.

The host smiled from behind his podium. "Dr. and Mrs. Port. Good evening. We have your table ready."

Jason gave a nervous glance from the corner of his eye, as if embarrassed that the mask so easily revealed who they were.

"Thank you, Dan." She smiled at the host with whom she'd talked to in person several times the past week.

Jason glanced at her, as if surprised that she knew the host by name.

When the host started to lead the way, she whispered to Jason, "Not everything is about you." Her smile faded when the teasing didn't seem to relieve any of his stress.

The host led the way through the small dining roof filled with perhaps fifteen couples and families in casual to dressy attire. People glanced and some outright stared at Jason, but she stood tall and proud on his arm. A few people even looked nervous. Goodness, the public did not have a good view of him at all and needed some loosening up. And to see the softer side of him.

Slipping her foot out of her shoe a bit, she pretended to stumble and left an empty shoe behind. "Oh!" She grabbed his arm tighter to catch herself when the stunt almost turned into a true trip.

He caught her elbow and steadied her. "Are you alright?" Concern made all awareness of the audience flee his eye.

"Sorry, I tripped." Turning to look for her shoe, she let go of his arm. As expected, he came over to be a gentleman. But then it dawn when he moved to kneel that it'd hurt his back to lean down. "Jay, your back - " Reaching out a hand to catch his sleeve, it was too late. The stubborn man, on one knee, helped her slip on the shoe. When he stood with a grimace of pain, she took his hand to help even though he didn't use the aid. "I didn't mean for you to put it on. Is your back alright?"

He gave a distracted nod like he focused on the audience again.

"Thank you, Jay." She took his proffered arm and overlooked his discomfort - he seemed to want to get out of the spotlight as fast as possible.

"You're welcome." His eye glanced at the exit like he debated an escape.

A glance around said that a few people had relaxed seeing his sweet gesture, but many still seemed uncomfortable in his presence. It'd been his chance to win over some people, but she'd botched it up by causing him pain. When she turned with him to follow the host, she plowed right into a waiter.

A pitcher of ice water dumped down the front of her dress. "Ah!" She peeled the front of the freezing material out from goosebumped skin. The air froze on her lips from the shock of an instant body temperature drop.

The waiter looked horrified. "I'm so sorry. Let me get some towels."

The host pulled some cloth napkins off an empty table. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Port."

Jason took the napkins and tried to soak up the worst of it. "Thank you. Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"It's cooold." She shivered and half laughed at this stupid comedy of errors of her own doing. Sucking in her stomach, she tried to tug the cold material away to no avail.

A few smiles of relief spread around the room, like they had expected Jason to explode.

"Here are some more." A man stood and grabbed a couple more napkins from another table.

"Thanks." She took them and wiped the dripping water from her legs. Now she glanced at the exit. A warm suit jacket draped around her shoulders. Glancing up, she met Jason's concerned look as he wrapped her in his jacket.

"Let's get you home and dry." His arm curled around her waist.

"No, it's just water. I'm fine."

He didn't appear convinced. "You're turning blue." The man started to guide her toward the door.

"No, Jay, it's your birthday." She dug in her heels, laid a hand on his arm, and looked up at him with big eyes.

His gaze held hers for a moment, as if debating with himself, and finally nodded for the host to continue the way to a table.

Everyone still watched, but some of the women looked at him with stars in their eyes as he kept her close and rubbed her arms to warm her up, all the while leaving his suitcoat around her shoulders. A few of the men threw him irritated glances and scooted closer to their female companions. Jason seemed oblivious to it all like his only concern was keeping her warm.

A circular, white-cloth table sat alone in the middle of a pine room that could've held ten or more tables. Crystal chandeliers hung from the modest cathedral ceiling over a deep red and ivory scrolled carpet. The owner had said this room served as a small banquet hall - it was perfect for his birthday dinner.

The sweet man pulled out her chair himself even though the host moved to do it, and then he took his own seat on the other side of the small table. The host handed over the menus.

A young male waiter appeared immediately and the host departed. The waiter introduced himself and discussed the specials. Then he turned to Jason. "May I get you wine or another one of our drinks on this menu?" He handed Jason a drink menu.

Jason took and passed the menu to her. "What would you like, sweetheart?"

Before she could answer, the waitor jumped in like he was embarrassed at the perceived faux pau of not asking the lady first. "Mrs. Port requested to have whatever you choose, sir."

That black eyebrow cocked at her, and he set down the menu before her.

She held his eye for a moment. He wasn't going to order a drink because pride prevented him from requesting a straw. But a discussion had been held in private earlier with the staff, specifically outlining Jason's culinary needs and to not be disturbed for one hour after bringing the meal. "A white wine, please. Jay?"

He simply shook his head.

A glance from the waitor, who seemed to be questioning the water and straw she had preordered Jason in the event he refused to place an order. She gave a subtle nod.

"I'll return in a moment while you look over the menu." Then he slipped out the double wooden doors and closed them.

Jason sat back and picked up his menu. "Are you warm enough?"

"Yes. The dress is already starting to dry."

His eye dropped to his menu.

Whew, that had been a close call of Jason catching that this had all been prearranged. His first dinner at a restaurant in six years didn't need to shake his confidence. She looked at the menu. Chicken marsala, shrimp scampi, steak...goodness, the food was mouthwatering.

"Did you tell him cocktail-length straws won't suffice?"

"Yes, I - " She stopped and sat up straighter while staring at her menu, buying some time to cover that slip up. "Sorry, I was half listening." Then she let her gaze float up, as calm as could be. "What did you say about shrimp cocktails?"

He set down the menu and folded his hands on the table. Oh dear, he didn't fall for the rouse. "If we go out to dinner, you are not to prep the staff for my arrival." He spoke calm enough but with firm authority.

Setting her menu down, she folded her hands on the table as well but probably didn't pull off a commanding picture wearing his oversized jacket over her shoulders. "I won't. This is your first time eating out in years, and there is no harm in giving a nudge to make sure it's a good experience. And I will point out that celebrities have people who prep restaurant staff prior to their arrivals."

His eyebrow lifted a hint. "I don't recall either of us being celebrities. What else have you told the staff?"

Oh goodness, he wasn't happy. That eyebrow scar peeked out more when cocked, lending him a fierce badass look. Her heart fluttered. Focus. Biting her lip, she sat up straighter to argue. "Simply to not disturb us for an hour after being served."

He sat back with a displeased glare. "That in no way has inappropriate connotation."

She flushed. "No, it doesn't...well, it does, but I think people realize you have physical changes from the fire."

That eyebrow shot higher. "We are in the media on occasion and not in a favorable light. You do not say something that could so easily be misinterpreted to harm your reputation."

Her brow furrowed. "I was trying to make sure you have a nice night. And I don't know why you are worried about my reputation when the media will find some way to smear it. It's a hopeless cause and I don't really care. You and family and friends know the truth."

A stern look served as his answer.

That look created an urge to squirm. "You're going to be good at disciplining the kids," she mumbled.

"I wouldn't be if I didn't have to practice on you." He reached for his menu. "Keep at it - we're up til midnight right now with your punishment for all your antics tonight."

She froze midreach for her menu and her eyes flew to him. That intense blue eye met hers from beneath his brow. A flush swept up and her toes curled. Dear heaven, he remembered tonight and apparently had some naughty plans. Her mouth ran dry and her heart stumbled as it skipped a beat. Tearing her gaze away, she picked up the menu and opened it without actually seeing it. Play it cool. "I believe it's the birthday boy who is supposed to be punished." Sexual tension shot across the table, and he could be sensed hanging on her next words. She held back a haughty smile without looking up. "So, I hope you sleep well tonight alone in your own bed."

He pushed back his chair. Oh dear. The man picked it up by the back with one hand and carried it over to her right. Then he sat down, leaving so little space that leaning to the right would brush his arm. Her eyes remained locked on the menu as she feigned ignoring him. His arousing, woodsy scent floated to her nose.

"You are enjoying yourself - you know I like it when you take me to task." His husky baritone may as well have vibrated over her skin with the shivers it caused.

Admiting enjoyment to this wouldn't do to match her aire of disinterest. "You think highly of yourself to believe that was an invitation to come over." She scanned the menu.

"Oh, I know that was an invitation so you can scold me." His warm hand slipped over her thigh.

Electricity bolted through and her heart thundered in immediate response to his touch. But she swatted his hand and threw him a fierce frown. Of course he'd never do anything inappropriate when the waitor could return at any moment, but there was an element of fun in this game of him wanting her to play hard.

The man chuckled and withdrew his hand to pick up his menu. "I take it that a kiss is out of the question." Delight tinted his voice.

"Quite a bit is out of the question." She glanced from the corner of her eye.

He seemed to enjoy that barb, if his smile served as any indication, the odd man. "You wound me. A humble man but seeks a small token of affection from a beautiful woman - "

She snorted. "I don't see such a man in here." It took effort to keep from smiling at her menu.

A soft gasp and his mouth fell open as he set a hand on his chest. "A lesser man would crawl away to lick his wounds from such a saucy lass. Alas, I have not lost faith that I'll win you over yet." His hand captured hers and raised it to his lips.

Turning her head away from him to keep up the aire and hide her reaction, she grinned and flushed like a silly school girl.

"Aye, me bonnie lass has t' most comely blush o' a rose." He slipped into a thick burr and leaned forward to stroke her cheek with the back of his forefinger.

Whipping her head around to look at him with wide eyes, she laid her hands against the growing blush to hide it. "You cannot cheat!"

"Ah don't ken what yer talkin' about, lass." His hands eased hers down and that gorgeous blue eye drowned her deeper and deeper. That accent floated from his lips in a cashmere soft purr as he continued to speak.

A breathless sigh and she couldn't look away from his entrancing face. "I have no idea what you said." It came out in a dreamy whisper.

His lips curled up to reveal perfect teeth. "I said it's not cheating when you've stolen my heart."

A dreamy hum escaped as she melted.

He smiled. "Sweetheart?"

"Hm?" So this must be what eating out of someone's hand felt like. What a delicious hand it was.

"The waitor asked for our order." That smile grew and his eye darted beyond her to where the waitor must've stood.

"Oh!" Snatching up the menu, she buried her face in it to hide the embarrassment. The waitor stood on the left and their drinks already sat on the table.

When the waitor left with the order, he took a sip of water through the straw, his leg bouncing the edge of the tablecloth as he sat back. All the flirtation vanished and he stared at the wall ahead like he grew lost in his thoughts.

She set a hand on his leg to still it. "Jay? What's wrong?"

He blinked and looked at her with such worry. "Em, we should just take the food home. I'm going to embarrass you - "

"No, you won't. It will be fine. Just try. If you still want to go after trying, we will go. There's no one here to see anything." She slipped a hand into his in his lap.

His brow furrowed with worry. "I'll leave behind a pile of napkins." His head shook. "That's the best case scenario, Emma." The stress etched deeper in his face.

Opening her clutch, she pulled out a cloth napkin in a plastic bag. "I figured you wouldn't want to leave evidence behind." She smiled and handed it to him.

"One isn't enough." His cheek burned pink with embarrassment.

"I know. It's all I could fit in my purse." Then she glanced at the door to the left and turned toward him for privacy. And reached down her dress. His eyebrow shot up when she pulled out a napkin from each side. "It'll have to do because I had nowhere else to store more."

He burst out in a belly laugh and took them, wiping his eye. "Oh, Emma, you never fail to surprise me. Thank you." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Don't expect those to go home the way they came." She adjusted the bodice. "That was way too uncomfortable."

"I'll put them in my pockets." He chuckled and tucked the napkins in his lap. "Thank you, sweetheart. Where did you get these?"

She shrugged and picked up her glass of wine. "I bought them. Trudy couldn't find any in the house."

"Because I don't keep any in the house. It seemed like a waste when I stain them worse than a toddler." He shrugged and picked up his a glass for another drink, like he didn't notice his face burning red with humiliation. It was almost as if he meant it to be a warning that dinner wouldn't be pretty.

"I've fed you. There's nothing to be ashamed of, Jay." Another sip of wine. He didn't want this dinner - maybe she'd pushed too hard for this.

"Only for two days because you had it in your head that I'd perish without food for a short time." His arm draped across the back of her chair.

"Because you'd already gone days without eating." She took another sip of wine. Oh god, he looked so nervous. Her stomach churned. "I don't know what you're so worried about with eating anyways. I expected far more mess with the fuss you make about it." She picked up the wine glass again.

He caught the glass and lowered it to the table. "You've downed half a glass in under two minutes. And you rarely drink." His eye shifted from the glass to her. "You're stressed about being here."

Letting go of the glass, she folded her hands in her lap. "I don't want anything to go wrong tonight." Or after dinner, for that matter. Gaston used to do dinner dates, draping his arm across the back of the chair and then paw at her afterwards. Funny how those memories suddenly surfaced.

His hand stroked her back. "We don't have to make love, Emma."

The gentle warmth in his tone made her meet his eyes. "If you hate being here, we can go, Jay."

Those long fingers laced with hers. "I will try, if you will speak up if you want to leave. I'm afraid of embarrassing you." When she opened her mouth to protest, he shook his head. "Just promise." When she nodded, he continued. "Are you worried about later tonight?"

Looking down at his hand wrapped with hers, she shook her head. Anxiety fluttered. "No." Jason sat too much in the position that Gaston used to when he'd start getting drunk. This wasn't Gaston. But some things reason and time could not undo. She shifted very slowly to the far edge of her chair. This was stupid - Jason wouldn't do anything inappropriate and he wasn't drinking.

His arm dropped from the back of her chair, and he let go of her hand to take a drink from his glass.

A silent sigh of relief. Space, thank heaven.

"What triggered it, Emma?"

Her eyes flew to his.

He set down his glass and looked at her as he sat back in his chair, leaning to the side a bit to give her more space. "I've seen that look enough to know you're frightened about him. I don't know how to make you feel safe until I know what made you not." Patience and calmness floated from his voice.

Getting up, she walked to the windows across the room and wrapped her arms around her middle. The sunlight began to fade behind the mountains. Distance helped to get the fear under control. "I thought this was dead," she whispered. Not backwards. Not back to the nightmares and irrational fear of the one person who was such beautiful sanctuary.

"It's something that will raise its head now and then. It will never die, but it's something we will learn better and better how to handle. This doesn't mean it will get worse again, sweetheart." So much patience when most men would be irritated.

Peaceful silence calmed the anxiety. He would wait with the patience of a saint.

"You shift your right foot when you're not so frightened. May I come over?"

She stilled her foot and nodded without looking away from the window. His footsteps came closer, but he seemed to realize that a touch would be too much. "This wasn't supposed to be how your birthday dinner went," she whispered and held herself tighter. An ache welled inside. The cruel irony - that the safe haven of his arms would be the same thing to tip this into a panic attack.

"An evening with you happy is all I want. It doesn't matter. What frightened you, Emma?"

"He used to do dinner dates and would lean across the chair like that. You've done it before. I forgot about it until now. He'd get falling down drunk. Sometimes I think that's the only way I was able to get him off time and time again." Shaking her head, she sighed. The threatening fear faded away with each minute. A bitter laugh bubbled up in its place. "Before marrying me, you probably should've considered my lack of intelligence to have been with someone like him for so long."

"I wasn't exactly the best judge of character with Carolyn either. We lived and learned from our stupid twenties." A warm hand slipped into hers and eased her arm down from hugging herself. "Let me, Emma," he whispered and tugged to ease her to face him.

Searching that gentle face, she dropped her arms and stepped into his. The beat of his heart thudded slow and steady under her ear.

A deep sigh raised and lowered his chest as he leaned his cheek atop of her hair. "I love when you rest her head on my chest." His fingers trailed down her opposite arm to draw up her hand to rest on his chest as he started a gentle sway. "You're always safe with me, my Em." The tenderness of his soft voice brought peace and she closed her eyes. "Whatever reminds you of him, let me change those memories." His feet shifted in a slow dance and something in the way he held changed to being comforted as much as offering it. "Emma?" The words breathed from his lips. "Everything I do is for you. Every time I fight my body to overcome the impossible, it's because you're my reason to not give up. You take my hand so often when I'm lost; let me take yours when you're unsteady."

She shook her head. "You think I'm this strong, wise person." Looking down at his chest, she swallowed hard in humiliation.

"No, I'm not stupid, Emma." His hands let go to cup her face to look at him. "I _know_ that you're strong and wise. And that you make me believe I can do the impossible." As if his words weren't enough, he reached for the mask.

Her eyes widened. Someone could walk in at any moment. He never removed the mask away from home if a door wasn't locked. Her heart beat faster. "Jason." A glance at the closed wood doors that could open any moment didn't seem to phase him.

He pulled off the mask without breaking eye contact and set it on the windowsill. In one graceful move, he peeled off the lip bandage and laid it inside the mask. Then he took her hand and guided it up to his face without any shame or hesitation.

In a split instant, her heart melted at his feet.

Those thick black eyelashes swept down as he cupped her hand to his warped cheek. He took a step closer and lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers. His tongue swept in, as if surrendering to his lip doing what it may but knowing she wouldn't let him fall.

So much love swelled that wonderful pain burst inside as her heart exploded. Rising onto her toes, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Kiss me. Let me be just a man," he whispered against her lips.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. Kiss me."

How he even knew she always held back a bit to remember to not touch his poor scars and cause pain remained a mystery. But her hand slid from his cheek to the back of his bare head, pulling him closer. The feel of the bumpy flesh on the back of his head was unfamiliar and warmer than expected. A heady thrill swept through at the beautiful gift he laid at her feet. Her tongue stroked over his as the passion bloomed. If her touch caused pain, he didn't show it or seem to care. Her other hand glided into his thick hair. He tasted of love and passion and trust, making it so easy to grow drunk.

"Oh! I'm sorry." An unfamiliar male voice shattered the spell.

Her head jerked back in surprise, not even thinking that such an instant loss of support for his lip would cause his mouth to drip. Reaching to help him get out his handkerchief, she looked over her shoulder at the older restaurant owner, who diverted his eyes. Then she looked back at Jason. Helping him would risk the owner seeing his face, but leaving him to go distract the owner would leave him feeling humiliated and rejected.

He turned away and held the handkerchief to his mouth, scrambling to get the lip bandage and mask on.

Her heart fell the moment he turned his back. That split instant of debate had been enough to leave him on his own. When she reached to help, he was already put back together. "Jason," she whispered, a deep ache of guilt that perhaps he'd misunderstood debate for reluctance.

But the man turned around to face the owner, pasting on a smile that came a split second too late to hide the regret in his eye. "I beg your pardon. The intimacy of your restaurant, compounded with the elegant lighting and the beauty of my wife were too much to resist stealing a kiss." He took a step toward the man.

She caught his sleeve, forcing him to turn his head to look at her. "I didn't know if I should distract him or help you," she whispered for his ears alone.

Those broad shoulders relaxed and his smile grew more genuine. "Forgive me, I grew too bold." His quiet words floated to her ears as he tucked her arm in his.

"I think you're oxygen deprived right now for that outrageous remark. I thoroughly enjoyed it." Then she tugged the grinning idiot toward the older man and made introductions.

* * *

"How is your meal?" That served as Jason's first attempt at conversation since the meal had been brought five minutes ago.

"Mm, it's very good salmon. A chili mango sauce, but it's very sweet." She swallowed her mouthful. "Do you want to try some?" Piercing another piece, she held it out on the fork for him.

Holding the napkin to his mouth from where he sat on her immediate right, he shook his head. "I make it a rule to not eat hos-phital ph-ood when not there."

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

He glanced from the corner of his eye. "Ph-ish is on the menu ph-or protein in the burn unit."

With a roll of her eyes, she ate the piece herself. "Maybe you wouldn't hate it if you didn't associate it with the hospital."

"Doubt it." He took a drink of water.

She stabbed another piece, the slight buzz from the wine creating a warm sensation that chased away the fear of being bold. "Maybe if you ate it off my naked body."

He choked and apparently sprayed the mouthful of water into the napkin because he dabbed at his mouth and traded for a fresh cloth already. The man cleared his throat and regained his composure. "Let's test that theory." The rogue tried to bait.

With a shrug, she took another bite. "Alright. Afterwards, I get to play with you."

Stunned silence and a wide blue eye met hers. "Emma Adelaide, I daresay I've neglected you for too long, bold lass." Apparently she'd made an impression if his rare use of her middle name gave any indication. He put the lip bandage on, as if ready for a conversation.

Taking a sip of wine, she set down the glass and leaned closer. "You cannot kiss like that and not expect a fire." Then she leaned in with her lips near his ear. "Andrew," she breathed and nipped his earlobe. Goodness, it felt good to play with fire.

Every muscle in his body tensed and melted simultaneously. "Dear god, you'll be the end of me," he sighed in wonderful agony. "You should not call me that."

Biting her bottom lip in a teasing manner, she batted her eyes. "No one is around to hear."

"No, because I'm just about ready to take you on this table if you do not behave. Do not call me that, or one day there will be a slip up and someone around to hear." He took her wine glass and a long sip of it with his straw. "I should request an entire bottle to cool my blood if you're going to be this wild tonight."

A naughty smile bloomed across her lips. "You should've told Pete to ditch the car so we can makeout in the backseat like teenagers."

His eye narrowed. "Is that your second wine?"

"Maybe." She reached across his plate and stole a sip of his water.

"Are you drinking because you're nervous?"

She rolled her eyes. "You overanalyze everything. There's nothing wrong with having some drinks before going to bed."

"There is when you're drinking to deal with me bedding you." His eyebrow rose.

Unpinning the clip in her hair, she let the curls cascade to her shoulders. "Maybe I'm tired of being this timid rabbit in the bedroom - "

"Emma." His hand caught hers holding the clip. That gaze locked and waited.

Pulling her hand away, she shook her head and looked away. "You really think a near panic attack earlier won't come out later tonight?" Then she tipped back the last of the wine.

"So drinking it away is a better option? And I suppose you're going to say the baby has nothing to do with this either?"

"It must be nice always having control of the world in your hand," she snapped in response to him hitting a raw nerve.

He remained silent and still for a moment. "Fine. Drink if you want, but we're not making love tonight. I will not touch you when you're drunk." Then he picked up his fork.

"Because that would be too vile, wouldn't it?" There couldn't be a drunk enough state for tonight. Anything to not bring back the memory of the last time making love resulting in a baby that would never be.

The fork slammed flat on the table and he released a deep breath. "What is this sudden attitude? If I'm that offensive in bed, a simple 'don't ever touch me again' would be nicer than being handed a drunk wife."

Her eyes pierced. "I don't know, maybe having a husband who wants to do it on a restaurant table, without any kind of consideration that this is the first time since the baby, is offensive."

He buried his face in his hands for a moment, as if to control his temper. "Emma, of course I'm not going to really just have at it. I thought that bold talk was a way for you to blow off some nerves. I'm nervous as hell about tonight - if you want me to lead or if I should let you, if we should just be quick so you can have the first time after the baby over with or if going slow is better for you..." His eyebrow rose and he laid a hand on his chest. "I'm stressed about all of those things and if my back is going to hold up enough to please you - "

She blinked. "Your back can't take the pressure of lying on it yet and certainly not the strain of you being on top. I thought you were going to take me against the wall."

His brow furrowed. "I'd hardly say that's considerate, given the circumstances. It's not the easiest position to cuddle you either - "

"Cuddle?"

"Or not." His eye widened a bit like a deer in headlights.

Her temper burned out.

A glint of hurt shined in his eye. "Emma, I told you that we don't have to do anything tonight."

Leaning her elbows on the table and her head in her hands, a shaky sigh escaped. "I did want to, but the closer it gets now, the more I'm dreading it." Silence. Oh god, that didn't come out right. She dropped her hands and touched his arm as he stared down at his plate. "I didn't mean it like I can't stand you."

Several wrinkles formed in brow from deep concern and he met her eye. "If I've given you any cause to hesitate about physical contact, you have a right to say. I shouldn't assume that you want to be kissed like I did earlier - "

"No." Resting her forehead against his shoulder, she closed her eyes. "Jason, it's all so messed up." The words swept out in a whisper.

His hand covered hers on his arm, but he didn't otherwise move. "Tell me what you want. I know you're having a difficult time moving forward, and what you wanted ten minutes ago may be different than ten minutes from now. But at this moment, what do you want?"

"You shouldn't be this patient with me."

"Perhaps you should be more patient with yourself."

She sat back and swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. "Right now, I just want you to do it and get off. I want the first time to be over with."

"No."

Her eyes flew to him.

"I will not ever take you with the purpose of you not finding pleasure and comfort in the act." His eye burned even though he seemed to restrain himself from spitting the words. "I will not be like him."

An ache formed inside. It needed to be impersonal and over with, but he was going to hold out. Tears stung. "Fear and pain were him."

His nostrils flared, anger so easily rising whenever Gaston's actions came up.

"You think I'd want you to pin me down and rut until I screamed from the pain?"

Redness inched up his neck. He despised speaking of the assault, but never would he say she couldn't talk about it. Protective possessiveness always overcame him without fail. His hands curled into fists of fury.

Hurt nudged to keep pushing buttons. Then it dawned. The shame of him not only having a wife whose body had been defiled but a wife whose body couldn't give him a child either held her back more than fear of another pregnancy. If he hated her body too, guilt wouldn't weigh so heavy. "To touch where he's fingered?"

His hands slammed down on the table, rattling the dishes. "Don't use him to piss me off," he hissed, looking like smoke could come from his nostrils any moment like a raging bull.

Tears welled. "You want the pieces he left?"

His face reddened. He shot up so fast that his chair toppled and he was across the room in an instant locking the doors and pulling closed the drapes. A dark look filled his eye as he stormed back over and yanked her out of her chair so fast that when she blinked, her back was against a wall. An arm braced the wall on each side of her and his chest heaved with rage. "You're mine." His thumb dragged over her lips with rough pressure to remove her lipstick. "This is mine," he growled. "I'm the only one who can touch or see your body." His hand trailed down to cup her breasts and hips in possessiveness. "It doesn't matter what happened before." His finger hooked under her chin and jerked it up to meet his eye. His eye glowed with insane jealousy. "You are mine. Every inch of you. Do you understand me?"

Her hand buried in his thick hair. She looked up and searched his face. Not far behind his anger, regret burned that he hadn't been there to stop Gaston. Her fingers curled, capturing and crinkling a handful of his shirt at his chest. Tonight threatened to drown her for some reason, and it was getting harder to breathe. A single tear rolled down from the corner of her eye.

Those strong fingers trailed down her belly to her thighs where his hand disappeared under the short black dress. "You're my wife," he whispered and kissed the tear away. His fingers brushed through her panties, and she clutched fistfuls of his shirt to keep her head above water. "I will tear apart anyone who tries to harm you. I will kill him if I ever see him again." His fingers hooked her panties between her legs and waited for a protest. His forehead leaned against hers and his eye locked on her mouth, his hot breaths mingling with hers. "Let it take you. You aren't winning - fall and I'll come for you," he whispered.

The threatening depression and suppressed grief these past weeks had only fed the shame and fear from Gaston that still lingered. That would forever linger in the shadows. Closing her eyes, she shook her head even though the last threads of control slipped away. She crushed his shirt tighter in a desperate attempt for one more breath as the water closed over her head.

He yanked and the material gave away. His mouth crushed down on hers.

Pain and fear and shame and regret and every dark emotion took hold so strong that she let go of him to stop this hell from reaching him. All then, it all ceased. The world was numb and dark, with nothing but blackness in a world far colder than any she'd ever known. No pain or happiness or light...just drifting through cold blackness. All alone. Not even Jason. All sensation of her body dulled. She opened her eyes.

Jason held her gaze and his body began to gently rock. "I'll find you," he whispered and his head bowed to kiss her neck.

She closed her eyes when something inside flickered. A light. Golden and a small glow amid the sea of black. It grew a little bigger. The closer it came, the more the pain and hopelessness and fear returned. Her fingers scratched something as she crushed fistfuls of whatever was under her hands. Awful memories surged. Pain that couldn't be possible in Jason's arms exploded from Gaston. Her body curled in agony and the horrible realization that it wasn't Gaston or imaginary but Jason's body causing the pain. And she couldn't force words out to tell him to stop. She reached out to shove away the light that created such a twisted, horrific world. But the moment she touched it, the horror vanished. A world of light and peace and hope enveloped. Soft flickers of beautiful colors formed and faded, more and more of them bursting to life as her hands and body relaxed. Love and comfort came. And then so did pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she cradled his head as he continued making gentle love.

When he set her down, she held his arms and tried to regain control of her shaky legs as he pulled down her skirt. She searched his face as he put himself back together, utterly speechless. He didn't say anything, like he hadn't just changed her world forever for the better. "How did you know?"

He met her eyes as he pulled on his suit jacket that had fallen to the floor from her shoulders, causing himself a slight grimace of discomfort. "Remember the first time you kissed me without the lip bandage?"

She nodded.

"That's what you did for me." A gentle smile from the depths of his heart touch his face.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Sorry for the delay. Buying a house and then researching the latter part of this chapter took up more time than expected.**

* * *

Walking out of the restaurant on his arm, she couldn't meet anyone's gaze, in certainty they all knew what had transpired. The shy smile wouldn't fade, though. The dining hall seemed brighter. The crystal chandeliers sparkled a little more. The night summer breeze seemed a bit fresher. Jason seemed to stand a little straighter, his smile a little happier, his spirit a little more beautiful.

In the middle of the wide parking lot lit up only by a couple parking lights and the stars dotting the skies, he took her hand and spun her into his arms. His hand dipped into his pocket and moving orchestra music swelled in the night from his phone.

She looked up at him in surprise as he began a waltz. "What are you doing?"

He positively beamed. "Wooing my wife on our first true date." Headlights flicked on to aim at them. "Just Stevens so no one runs over us," he explained when she startled.

A flush crept up from his suaveness. "Mm. Learned that from dancing with Carolyn?" She cocked an eyebrow. It didn't matter though because Carolyn didn't have his heart.

"Carolyn danced and I danced. You and I...we are the dance, Emma." And then he swept her away with the music.

It was romantic in every way possible, his gaze never releasing hers like his heart beat for the sole purpose of her.

Movement caught her eye. People stood near the entrance of the restaurant and gawked out the windows. "People are staring." She tried to pull her hand out of his to go so he could get out of the public eye.

His grip tightened, and his steps didn't falter. "The town already thinks I'm eccentric." He smiled and led her into several spins.

Another couple began to dance and another until almost all couples standing outside used the parking lot like a dance floor.

She threw her head back and laughed. "Apparently they're as eccentric as you, Jay."

Everyone twirled around them as his steps slowed. His eye held hers, glittering as brilliant as the stars overhead. And he cradled her face in his hands as he kissed without a care for who stared at him.

Tonight couldn't get any better.

* * *

In the car, she frowned when Pete didn't head toward home but farther into town. "He's going to wrong way." She looked at Jason in confusion.

"No, he's not." A smiled played on his lips and he glanced out the window, holding her hand a little tighter. The car pulled up in front of the church a minute later.

Jason opened the car door and then held out a hand with a smile.

She took it and got out of the car. Nothing had happened that should make him want to go to confession right now or talk to Father Bob. A glance over her shoulder revealed Pete getting out too. Trudy stood at the top of the steps in a nice summer dress and dabbed at her eyes with a smile. "Jay?"

He tucked her arm through his. "I promised we'd renew our vows when I give you the new wedding ring." So much pride welled in his eye as he walked her up the steps. "The jeweler took half of my band to make half of yours."

Tears pricked and she would've stopped in her tracks if he hadn't been leading. "But my dress." She brushed at her eyes and looked down at the outfit better suited for a funeral than a wedding.

"You underestimate Ms. Van Hoodie." He smiled and handed over his handkerchief.

When he handed her to Trudy, she glanced back to see Pete bringing a suit bag up the steps. Jason walked with him toward the bathroom.

"Come. We'll have you as lovely as a tulip in December, don'tcha know." Trudy dragged her toward the Bride Room. Her wedding dress, shoes, and a bouquet of fresh red roses laid in wait. "He picked the flowers himself before your date. Tried to make the bouquet himself, but some things are just hopeless for a man. Best leave them to us, don'tcha know." Trudy picked up the bouquet that had a white satin ribbon wrapped around the stems, most likely done herself because it looked flawless.

She stood in shock as Trudy dressed her, her mind still back in the parking lot dancing under the stars. The woman had her hair in an elegant braid by the time it all sank in. "Why tonight?"

Trudy smiled at her reflection where she sat before a mirror. "He said he wants you for his birthday, don'tcha know. He had this planned for his actual birthday but then that awful attack happened. The jeweler had a long wait, busy making engagement rings - Dr. Port only uses the best. The poor thing has been checking on it every week."

She frowned. "Jason's been wearing his ring."

Trudy smiled. "Pete's wedding ring. He said you were so upset that he wanted the jeweler to use the band from your real wedding, don'tcha know. Pete offered him his ring as a decoy so you wouldn't know." Then Trudy's expression grew more serious. "That man would give his soul to the Devil for you. I don't even recognize him anymore. He's so happy." Trudy finished and stepped around, holding out a pair of tiny blue sapphire stud earrings.

"My grandma gave these to my mom on her wedding day. When my mom passed, she left them to me to give to my children. I forgot about them until I found them down in my jewelry box a couple months ago." Trudy sniffled. "I know it's not proper and all that hullabaloo being his housekeeper, but he had no one and I had no one. He's like my boy. I offered them to him, but Dr. Port would have none of it. Said he didn't deserve such an heirloom and walked away. I know if he would've taken them, he would've given them to you. They're not worth much, but it's something to give to your babies." Trudy opened her hand and pressed the earrings into her palm.

She stared at the dear woman and then at the earrings. "Trudy..."

The woman shook her head and met her eyes, just as watery. "You will have babies. It doesn't matter if they come from your or are adopted, you and him will love them. Take them."

"Oh, Trudy...thank you." She sniffled and hugged her. "He...he hurts not having family. Did he tell you that his grandmother wrote him months ago?"

Trudy nodded. "He looked so heartbroken and asked me what to do. He never asks me what to do."

She set her hand over Trudy's. "Because he views you as a mother figure. I've overheard him ask you what to do - he just doesn't outright say it. I don't think he refused these because they are or aren't worth much but because he blames himself for his family falling apart. He doesn't think he's worth heirlooms - the only heirloom he had was his mother's chair, which he gave to me. His grandmother sent a pocket watch, but he's kept that locked in the safe." She held Trudy's hand and searched her eyes. "I don't think he realizes what you mean to him, but I know he loves you."

As if uncomfortable with the conversation, Trudy brushed at her eyes and walked over to get the bouquet. "I'm the housekeeper, and I shouldn't have said anything - "

Without waiting for Trudy to turn around, she hurried out of the room to hunt down Jason.

He stood at the back of the church with Pete and looked surprised when she marched toward him. "Emma, you look beautiful - "

Grabbing his arm, she dragged him through the foyer toward the Bride Room.

"Um, why do I have the feeling this isn't good?"

She shoved him into the Bride Room, Trudy looking as surprised as him. "You stop being a blockhead and talk to her. You're so afraid of being loved that you shove away the people who want to be your family. You're not coming out until you two talk." Then she closed the door and stood guard outside it.

Pete walked over with a snicker. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"Don't laugh - you're next. I'm not marrying him again until we all talk and start behaving like a family."

The man held up his hands. "All that mushy stuff is for women."

A poke to his stomach dropped his hands. "You're as protective of him as I am. Admit it - you two act like friends when no one is looking."

"I'm his driver." Pete looked uncomfortable with the lie. "He's made it clear that there are boundaries."

"We all know the woman runs the home, and as head of this household, I say those boundaries are stupid and done."

The door opened and Jason looked uncomfortable as Trudy blubbered into a tissue.

Her mouth fell open. "You weren't supposed to make her cry!" She wrapped her arms around Trudy.

"He said for me to call him Jason, and he took the earrings, don'tcha know." The woman burst into fresh tears.

She shook her head and gave him a look that said he should've done this long ago. "Pete's next."

Both men glanced at each other a bit awkward and then did a one-armed-clap-on-the-back hug so typical of men. Jason did a grunt and handshake, and then Pete nodded with a smile and shoulder slap. Then they looked at her.

Her eyebrow cocked. "Uh, no."

Pete frowned. "What's wrong with that? He said I can call him Jason and I'm his best friend. I said I'd follow him to Hell."

A blank stare shifted to Jason.

He held out his hands. "It's guy talk. We don't need to say fifty thousand words like women."

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she took the bouquet that Trudy handed her.

"Now will you marry me?" Jason suppressed a smile.

"Now I will." She patted her hair into place.

"I dunno. Maybe you should reconsider - I didn't expect the mouse to turn into a tiger a year later." Pete winked at her.

Jason elbow jabbed Pete in the ribs. "Show the lady some respect. She keeps our sorry hides in line." Then he threw her a soft smile.

"Hey!" Pete rubbed his side. "I'll take you on in the ring."

"I always win." Jason rolled his eye.

"I say we do a round tomorrow before your back heals so I can get a victory in." Pete slipped her a grin, obviously enjoying baiting Jason.

His eyebrow rose in a bored manner. "We're at a wedding."

Father Bob stood in the church. Trudy fluffed out the wedding train while she put on the earrings.

When Trudy finished, Jason offered his arm to Trudy. "Stevens...Pete, would you walk Emma?"

Pete's chest puffed up and he nodded, taking his duty seriously.

Trudy giggled and took his arm. "And I'll give you away like a kitten at the market."

Jason just shook his head at Trudy's language and threw back one last smile as he walked the woman down the aisle.

"You're good for us all," Pete said, his eyes forward. "Never did I imagine that a bunch of lost souls could make up a family," he said in a gruff manner, as if embarrassed by the sentiment.

Taking Pete's arm, she smiled and watched Jason lean down to kiss Trudy's cheek at the front of the church. Trudy said something and then hugged him. The moment he took his spot, his eye focused down the aisle on her. And a smile made him beam brighter than the sun.

Her heart fluttered as she walked toward him and took his hand. It was as magical as marrying him the first time.

* * *

"Sorry, I fully intended to last longer than that." Jason rolled off and onto his side later the next evening.

"You shouldn't have worn that suit and tux last night." She rose onto her knees and leaned over to look at his back.

"Dear god, lie down. You do not get a man going like that and then stop in the middle of sex." He caught her thigh with a grin and gave a jerk.

With a squeak of surprise, she fell on her back. "Well, just help yourself."

"I fully intend to." He rolled her onto her side, wrapped his arm around her middle, and pulled her back to spoon against him. "I have a feeling this will please me more than you, so I'll do my best." His hand slipped down between her legs and all discussion ceased for several minutes.

She rolled over, as breathless as him, and draped a leg over his hip as she stroked his scarred cheek and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I love you." She smiled. "You should let me rub your back. I don't know why I let you talk me into this tonight - you don't look any more comfortable than last night."

"I love you too. You wouldn't let me have a wedding night last night, so it's only fair that I could tonight." A smile tugged at his mouth.

With a giggle as he slid her closer, she cocked an eyebrow. "Last night wasn't a real wedding night."

He frowned. "Romance slayer. It does too count as a wedding night. You're supposed to swoon, not be all logical with your we're-already-married-so-it-doesn't-count spiel."

"Someone has to be logical because you aren't." She threw him a playful look.

"Saucy lass." With a grin, his hands dove under the sheets and skimmed her sides - right where it tickled.

A squeal pierced the silence as she burst into giggles and batted his hands away that brushed behind her knees. "Stop, stop." She caught his hands as he stilled, a smile lighting up his face. "Be good, or you'll have a cold bed." The man looked contrite, so she scooted closer again and stroked his cheek where it wouldn't hurt him. How easy it was to grow drunk on this newfound intimacy of him not wearing the mask more and more often.

He smiled and reached to touch her face. His arm bumped hers, and he frowned in confusion, following her hand to where she touched his cheek like he hadn't realized it. But then again, he wouldn't have with her hand being on his blind, numb side. "Does it frighten you at night?"

She frowned. "No. Do you not want me to touch?"

But he stared at her lips, as if lost in thought. "Emma?"

"What, Jay?" She laid down on his pillow to be at eye level.

"I'm so tired of physicians and pain," he whispered. Each visit from the physical therapist seemed to weigh heavier on him. Taking her hand and laying it on the bed, his eye followed his finger tracing her wedding ring. "Is it being a coward to ask you to be at the PT session tomorrow?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Why on earth would you think that's being a coward?"

The man wouldn't look up like he was embarrassed. "Because I've been through war and other things and didn't need my hand held for those."

"I'd tell you that you're being silly, but I think you already know that. Of course I don't think it's being a coward and I'll come."

"Sometimes it's so painful I can't get through all the exercises. It's to the point that the therapist says damage will be permanent. I need someone to push me when I can't anymore."

Her eyes widened and she leaned up on her elbow to look down at him on his side. "Then you need pain meds beforehand. Or the exercise is too advanced yet - "

"I was taking some beforehand, but it doesn't help much, and I don't want narcotics." He caught her hand and ran his thumb over the wedding band. "Part of me doesn't want you there to see me not be able to do the simplest things..."

"But?" She turned her hand over to hold his.

"But if you're there, it'll make it easier to not give up," he finished in hushed tones. Then his eye flicked up to her.

Her heart melted, and she held his big blue eye. "Then I'll be there, Jay." Sliding closer, she rubbed his arm and tangled her feet with his. "Are you doing alright about the interview tomorrow? You haven't said a peep about it."

His lips pressed into a tight line, but he didn't comment.

"You know you have no reason to be jealous. I don't think he flirts, but even if he does, I don't have any interest."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," he mumbled and looked away.

"You know you're my knight." She smiled and slipped her arms around him, pressing up against his bare body.

He just grunted with a scowl.

"Do you need reminding, husband?" she purred and glided a hand down his shoulder, batting her eyes.

A mischievous glint filled his eye. "Yes, tomorrow when he's here - look at me like that the whole time."

Pressing her lips together, her shoulders shook with a suppressed laugh. "You're terrible, Jay."

* * *

The next morning, she reached for him but found a cold bed. Her eyes opened. The hall clock chimed half past six - the therapist was due at six. Not a good testament to how well he was taking this interview today that he'd gone ahead to PT alone. Shooting out of bed, she threw on clothes and darted across the hall to the exercise room.

Jason sat on the corner of the boxing ring without the mask and set down a heavy weight. His hair dripped with perspiration that also dampened his bare torso.

"Good!" Pete handed him a towel.

He wiped his face and the back of his neck, leaning his elbows on his thighs as his ribs heaved. It normally took more work than this gym to make him break a heavy sweat - it must be the pain.

Pete looked over. "Morning, Emma." He offered a smile.

Jason glanced up. And closed his eye.

Her steps slowed. Maybe he'd changed his mind about having company. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You coming means I have to climb the rope." His face, etched with pain, held no patience.

"Should I go?"

He simply threw down the towel.

No outright objection must be a good sign. His cheek flushed with exertion. It might be a sign of overheating too from the scars helping trap in heat. "Do you feel alright?" She set a hand against his warm cheek.

"I'm not a child." The man practically growled as he jerked his head away and got up.

So pain compounded his aching pride. "I'm just making sure you're alright."

Pete stood near a climbing rope that hung from the fifteen-foot ceiling. Huh. Odd that Jason wanted her here when Pete could offer just as much encouragement. She walked over to where the men stood. Jason muttered something and Pete laughed.

"If you think that's funny, your ass is lucky she's here, or I'd say what I really thought of you." Jason grabbed the rope.

Her eyes widened at his lack of manners, but Pete just snickered. "Um, where's the therapist?" She glanced from Jason to Pete.

"Superman here fired him. Higher." Pete gripped the rope at Jason's head level.

"Keep it up, and I'll show you how you can talk higher," Jason mumbled. His face contorted in pain as he gripped the rope higher, forcing more damaged back muscles to flex.

"Ooh, I'm scared. Climb the rope." Pete, bless his heart, didn't seem to take the threat to the family jewels serious.

In the blink of an eye, Jason's fist flew into Pete's ribs.

The man dropped to one knee, doubled over, and a weak laugh came forth. "OK, I guess I deserved that one."

"Jason!" She hurried over, her mouth gaping in shock. "What are you doing?!" Leaning down to look at Pete, she offered a hand. "Are you alright?"

"I've had worse." He took her hand and stood.

She set her hand on her hip and pointed at Jason. "I don't know what's going on here, but watch your temper." Then she pointed at Pete. "And do not poke his temper. Now, I fail to see how rope climbing will do anything but hurt his back."

"Rebuilding the muscles as much as we can. The therapist said."

" _We_ didn't do anything," Jason panted, struggling to climb the rope. He'd only made it a couple meters, his brow glistening already.

"Go! Show your woman your strength!" Pete clapped to cheer him on.

Jason threw him a look and let go of the rope, landing on his feet as agile as ever. "In the ring."

Pete snorted and folded his arms over his brawny chest. "I don't wish to die today."

She stepped between them with a severe look. "Stop it, Jason. You don't need to have a testosterone power trip because the reporter is coming."

His eye narrowed and he stepped closer, looking down his full height at her. "SEALS three times your size would not cross me."

She simply tilted her head back a little more and cocked an eyebrow. "Well congratulations to them - a woman half your size has the guts to do it. Let's put your male ego on hold and stop attempting to intimidate your wife. Sit."

A glint of reason flashed through his eye, like he'd been so deep in fight mode that he hadn't realized his body language. He took a step back and threw Pete a look to leave.

Pete spun on his heel like he couldn't get out fast enough.

Jason folded his arms over his chest and braced his feet apart. "No."

"Oh dear god, are you two years old?" She threw up her hands. "Fine. Stand and strain your back more. What the hell was that with Pete?"

His eyebrow shot up and he flung out his hand. "Oh, I don't know, maybe being humiliated in front of my wife and then following it up with a cocky reporter coming to _flirt_ with my wife!"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked an eyebrow. "And beating Pete up will make it better."

"You won't let me punch your boyfriend!" The man spun to the left and slammed his fist into the punching bag on the way over to his waterbottle.

Burying her face in her hands, she drew a deep breath. One, two, three. "Jason, I don't understand why you get so irrational about him. It's like he has this magical power to make you go insane." She dropped her hands and looked at him. "I have not once flirted with him, and I am hard pressed to say that he's ever flirted. This is in your head that he's a threat to you. I'm actually kind of insulted that you're this bothered - it's not like I'm going to have an affair."

He sank onto the edge of the ring and stared at the floor. "I know." His voice fell flat. "I'm not used to anyone expressing interest in you. I know what my failings are without having him throw them in my face."

The interviews humiliated him, only adding more salt to the wound. Walking over, she knelt and set her hands on his knees. "Jay, these aren't intended for anything to be thrown in your face. These interviews are to clear the misunderstandings the public has of you - to see the good man that you are. You don't have to do this interview."

His head raised. That sad blue eye cut straight through. "You don't deserve the rumors."

"I don't care - "

"That they say you live with a beast and I make you sleep naked, tied up on a bed rose petals so I can rut you?"

Her face burned. "Rumors will be told no matter what."

A black eyebrow rose and hatred spat from his words. "That I lock you in the house rather than let you work around others? That you hang on my arm because I've taught you my animalistic pleasures and manners are all you will ever have? That you scream from the sight of me without the mask - "

"Stop it!" The words echoed throughout the room. Rage pulsed so strong. How dare they turn him into some kind of monster. She drew a deep breath and held his eye. "I don't know why you read that trash online. It will be written no matter what."

"Because one of us should be aware what is being said," he hissed. "Since that picture in the field, they've turned you into a whore for a beast." He trembled with fury and his eye flashed. "So having a stranger come in and poke around our life, with perhaps sexual interest in you, has me _incredibly_ on edge," he spat.

His temper made more sense now. "I ask for one more try. If this doesn't go well, then no more. But my gut says he'll turn out to be our ally, Jay."

He shoved himself up and offered a hand to pull her to her feet, his eye boring in. "The final time," he growled and then walked out the door.

* * *

The brisk, fall air offered reprieve from the stress over the noon hour. Red, gold and brown autumn leaves speckled the hillsides of the mountains and crunched underfoot. The warmth of his arm wrapped around and his body close kept away the chill from not bringing a coat. This walk would help ease his stress for the interview tonight after work.

"Would you be disappointed if I cancelled our attendance at the ball this weekend?"

She looked up at his profile. "Aren't you expected to attend?"

Only the birds chirping and skittering of squirrels and forest life broke the silence for several moments. "I don't know that I can stand to be in a tux all evening. I'm still taking pain meds from wearing it for not even half an evening two nights ago."

Her heart twisted. "Oh, Jay, you should've said you hurt still." Glancing around, she tugged his hand. A fallen tree sat back in the woods just a few feet from the road. Pushing him down to sit on the log, she set a hand on his shoulder for balance and climbed to the other side. Standing behind him, she started a hard massage.

A soft hiss of pain and his muscles tensed under her hands. "Oh god. I should object, but it's so sore. Harder, Em." His words came out in a half whimper and half gasp. He braced his hands on his knees and panted, as if knowing pain would eventually bring the relief.

Gritting her teeth, she massaged as deep as possible. An ache threatened in her forearms from the force. "Your back is almost rock hard. We should get you in a hot bath to soak."

"Don't stop," he gasped.

The pain must be unbearable because he almost never asked for help. His back began to soften by the time her arms burned so much it was impossible to continue. "I'm sorry, we need Pete," she panted from the workout and dropped her arms.

"Oh, forgive me." He caught her arm and pulled her to sit on the log as he rubbed the fire away. Then his eye focused over her shoulder and his brow furrowed. "Is that a hand?"

Shooting around behind him with fright, she looked over his shoulder with a thundering heart. "Where?" The panic leeched out. A body? A piece of a body?

He stood and took a few slow steps toward a pile of wet leaves against the huge tree log.

The blood drained. A little, dirty hand blended in almost completely from beneath the pile. Oh god. Someone had dumped a child's body. Someone that might still be here. She looked around, the adrenaline surging. "Jason," she whispered and stepped closer, scanning for any threats in the woods.

"There's a heartbeat."

Her head whipped around to him.

His hands flew wiping away the debris, unveiling a child no more than two. "Emma, call Stevens and tell him to bring the car." He looked up, his eye scanning for danger too.

Snatching his phone out of his back pocket, she hit the code to unlock it. Incorrect code. Shit, the shaking wouldn't stop. Again. It opened as Jason scooped up the child.

"Em, come," he whispered. "I don't see injuries on her, but we're not staying to find out who left her." He held the child in one arm and grabbed her wrist with the other, pulling her along through the forest. "Step where I step, and stop me if I lead us into a tree." The man somehow picked a path that avoided crunching leaves or snapping twigs that might give away their location. When he finally stopped and laid down the girl in a densely covered area, he nodded for her to call as he pulled off his shirt.

"Hello." Pete answered on the second ring.

"Bring the car. We're a quarter mile south off the road - "

"Half mile west," Jason corrected as he peeled off his shirt and used it to clean the child as much as possible and searched for injuries.

She blinked. He'd greatly deviated the path and it hadn't seemed that far. "Half mile west. We found a child."

Jason nodded for the phone, so she held it to his ear. "I'm not sure yet if it's attempted murder and how long ago. Bring a gun," he whispered.

Hanging up the phone, she watched him pull the filthy, torn rags from the child's body. It was almost as if the child had been wandering...or had been gravely abused. "Is - "

His sharp look cut her off. He frowned and moved his lips as if to shush but didn't make a sound. Apparently he wasn't convinced yet that a killer wasn't still out there.

The child had so much dirt and filth. The hair caked with mud and leaves and the skin Jason could wipe somewhat clean was pale and a bit blue. Hypothermia? He peeled off the diaper so caked with waste for so long that it was impossible to determine the gender. A single wipe barely removed caked feces and revealed bright red flesh. Oh god, the flesh might be rotting underneath the filth. His hands shook with obvious rage, and he wrapped his shirt around the child like a diaper before holding the child close to fight the hypothermia.

In the car on the way to the hospital, he still didn't say a word but held the child. His jaw set in a hard line. Ferocious rage bubbled underneath. May God have mercy on the soul who did this because Jason surely wouldn't.

At the hospital, an ER team swarmed and Jason gave the story and medical update as a policeman pulled her aside, likely to see if the stories matched or if they were the abusive parents.

She heaved a sigh as the officer finally finished with his battery of questions. Jason came out of a room down the hall, wearing a white t-shirt one size too small.

"Did they tell you what they found out?" He still looked spitting nails mad.

She frowned. "No. I was hit with a thousand questions - I think they suspect we're the parents and you're an abusive husband."

The man snorted. "Then you had an idiot cop." Apparently his patience had flown out the window. "They found that she's from a group foster home just outside of town. I've never heard of it."

"How did she end up on the mountain?"

He snorted in disgust and folded his arms over his chest. "Apparently they have been close to being shut down a couple times. This time is the final straw. The home is claiming the girl wandered out the front door one night. A week ago," he seethed. "And didn't call the police but have been trying to find her themselves to avoid charges." The man looked ready to explode.

"Oh god, Jay. She can't go back there." The poor child had been lost, starved and who knows what else.

His arms folded over his chest. "And her state is not entirely due to being lost. The police are going after the staff."

She shook her head. "What's going to happen to the children? How many are there?"

"Ten." He looked stark raving angry. "We're becoming a temporary foster home." He stormed down the hall.

"We what?!" She trotted after him.

"The children need temporary housing until the building they're in is brought up to code and qualified staff are in place. My lawyer is working on getting us licensed as emergency foster parents."

"What?!" She slammed to a halt.

He turned. "You object?"

"No, but we don't know how to be parents, much less to teenagers! And they suddenly have money for fixing the place up?" She hurried to catch up when he started walking again. He wouldn't have...he couldn't have...

"I bought it. The children will live with us for a week or two until the home is brought up to code and proper staff are in place."

He did. She grabbed his arm, jerking him to a halt. "We don't know the first thing about running a foster home! What the heck were you thinking?!"

"We don't have to run it; we have to fund it." His brow furrowed like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "We hire good people to run it."

Stopping short in the middle of the hall, she stared after him as he continued to the little girl's room. He meant it. The crazy man had just become the patron of a group foster home. Somehow, it wasn't really that surprising.

She stepped into the hospital room. Jason stood at the foot of the bed with his feet braced apart and his chin in his hand as he studied the monitors. The little girl, all cleaned up, seemed even tinier in the large bed. A Russian child - beautiful baby-soft skin and the most gorgeous shade of blonde hair. The nurses must've had to cut the mats out because it was chin length and dull, but proper nutrition and time promised beautiful locks. The tiny little arm bore a brace to keep the IV in place. Her heart ripped out harder than it had when seeing the Foundation children in the hospital, for some reason. She walked over and touched the tiny little hand. Protectiveness and love grew by leaps and bounds with each passing hour.

"The diaper rash is so extensive that she may need skin grafts."

Her head whipped around to him in horror.

Hatred dripped from his voice as he stared at the monitors. "She'll be moved out of ER soon to a wound unit and be kept sedated for at least another day to control the pain."

Everything blurred as tears welled, and she looked at the tiny girl, not much more than a baby. "Jay? What kind of shape are the other children in?" Then she looked at him, the same question obviously on his mind.

He spun around and walked out. They called him a beast - for the first time, it may prove true for whomever was responsible for this would face wrath unlike any other.

Jason returned mid-morning, appearing a little less hostile and wearing his own clothes.

She sat up in the chair she'd slept in beside the bed in the wound unit. There was no need to ask where he'd been.

"I cancelled the interview for the time being. Stevens is downstairs. Go home and sleep for a bit, Emma." He offered his hand.

"You don't look like you slept much either." She took his hand and stood beside him, looking at the little girl. "Did you go to the orphanage?"

A single nod. "There are twelve children, not ten. Three are siblings and the oldest just turned of age to have custody of his siblings, leaving nine children in the orphanage as of tomorrow. The remaining children range from eleven to seventeen."

She frowned and looked up at him. "That seems odd there is such an age gap between her and the other children."

"I thought so too. And most of them are girls. They seem very subdued and the boys seem very aggressive." He seemed calm - too calm.

A shiver ran through as she met his eye. Abuse of some sort.

"So far sexual assault doesn't seem to be in the picture." His teeth ground together and he focused on the little girl still sedated.

"They said her name is Henrietta." She swallowed hard. During the night, the nurse had checked the wounds, revealing an emaciated body under the hospital gown and a feeding tube had been placed up the tiny little nose. Tears burned. "The police are anxious to talk to her - to see if she's too little to know not to speak of abuse?"

He nodded.

"She's so frail and there is so much skin missing." The terrible question that had been looming all night had to get out, had to be asked. "Jay...is she going to die?"

His arm wrapped around her waist and a deep sigh filled the silence. "As long as the infection to the wounds can be managed, she will fill out rather quickly."

Her stomach clenched. The children at the Foundation had always appeared well fed, yet he seemed familiar with this child's condition. Unable to look at him, she wrapped her arms around in need of feeling his solidness now. "Did you look like that?" The horrible words forced out as a whisper.

"Its best that she's not awake." He sat in the chair and pulled her down in his lap.

Curling up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. "I think I hate your father," she whispered.

He gave a soft pat on her back. "You're too good for that, Emma." The words came out so calm and gentle.

* * *

Taking shifts at the hospital with Jason to get some decent sleep helped. The next afternoon on her watch, she grabbed her cell and hurried into the hall.

"Is everything alright?" His voice came out thick with sleep. The poor man should get in a few more hours of rest.

"They stopped the sedation a little bit ago, and she's starting to wake up." Nerves twisted her stomach. Jason knew what to do with children so much better, and he'd know what all this medical talk meant that the doctor kept throwing around regarding open wound treatment.

"I'm coming." He sounded more awake. "Children are usually scared when they wake up. She might cry or be combative. Go to the gift shop and get her a stuffed animal to cuddle. Whatever she does, stay calm so she doesn't grow more upset."

The nervousness grew worse. "Okay. Hurry."

"I will."

Darting down to the gift shop, she bought a pastel yellow and pink giraffe, the only item small enough for a toddler to cuddle and easily carry. Then she raced upstairs, her heart thundering out all other sounds.

The moment she stepped into the wound floor, sobs from a child sliced through the air. Her heart pounded as she hurried toward Henrietta's room, the sound growing louder. So much fear laced through it, tearing out her heart. The nervousness and uncertainty should've mounted, but an instinct took over to get to the little girl. Rounding the corner, her heart ripped out and shot straight around that tiny finger.

The girl cowered in the corner of the bed away from the nurse, sobbing so hard that the poor thing should've fainted. The nurse tried talking and holding out a hand, which only resulted in the child flinging a fist to keep her back. Those little cheeks soaked in tears.

She walked up to the bed and held out the giraffe with a smile. Speaking softly might make the girl quiet to hear her words. "Look, this is for you. Do you want to give him a hug?"

The poor dear rubbed at her eyes and her little nose began to run as she sobbed an indecipherable word over and over.

"Henrietta," she cooed and grabbed a tissue, "it's alright." She reached to wipe her nose. "Don't cry."

The girl fling herself back and screamed and screamed, so overwhelmed and frightened and probably confused from the drugs.

She looked at the nurse, who dug out a syringe. "Don't!" Drugging the child wouldn't help anything.

"She's disoriented and going to hurt herself - " The nurse glanced at the doctor who entered.

The little girl didn't know safety or security or love. So she scooped her up, mindful of the wounds, and crushed her against her chest in a hug to immobilize the flailing. "Shhh, it's alright. You're okay, baby."

All movement ceased for a split instant, as if the child didn't understand the concept of a hug. Then she tried to struggle again.

The doctor moved forward to help, but she turned away in protectiveness. Calmness from deep inside rose up, and this strange instinct took over, as if knowing what to do. She hummed.

The soft, soothing sound seemed to quiet the little girl, and the tantrum melted into sobs too big to come from this tiny body. The little hand not in the brace grabbed a fistful of her shirt and clung like she'd never let go. That tiny face buried against her chest and sobbed out her little heart.

The moment that little head rested on her chest, tears threatened. So many emotions never felt before surged and the world shifted. "Shhh, baby. You're safe. I'm right here." She pressed a kiss to those shorn locks. Holding the little girl tighter, she swayed in a rocking motion, her heart forever lost around that little finger.


	14. Chapter 14

The doctors didn't know. The scan from earlier showed an old brain injury in the area that controlled speech. Perhaps the parents had inflicted it or perhaps the foster home had. The doctors didn't know the extent of the damage - Henrietta was too young to tell how much speech was affected. Speech therapy might help. Or maybe not.

A soft sigh to the right.

Glancing up from the rocking chair, she offered Jason a sad smile as he stood near the door and watched her rock the sleeping toddler.

Sadness and love and heartache wrapped up his expression. The doctors must have told him the news on his way in. He stepped closer and knelt, laying a hand on Henrietta's forehead. "How is she?"

"She cried herself to sleep." The sweet dear cuddled the plush giraffe, with a thumb still in her mouth as she snuggled close. The arm with the IV and brace held onto her shirt. "She was so scared and upset that she had a terrible meltdown." It'd been so hard to witness and now with him here, the emotions bubbled up. She sniffled. "They wanted to sedate her." Her lip quivered and a tear fell. "When I held her, it was like she didn't know what a hug was. And now she won't let go."

His eye rose and he stroked her cheek. "She's alright now. She'll come to learn what love and affection mean. I have a couple people I know from the Foundation who do foster care work. They gave some recommendations of good people to run the home."

She shook her head and held the precious little girl tighter. Others may not be patient or understanding of Henrietta's needs. If communication was an issue, tantrums would likely often ensue from Henrietta's frustrations. Jason seemed to know how to deal with overwhelmed children, but even if he taught staff how to handle it, would they be as patient and loving?

The movement must have woken Henrietta. Beautiful blue eyes fluttered beneath long lashes and looked up. And the most perfect smile in the world bloomed. Then the little darling buried her face and peeked up from the corner of her eye in a shy smile.

"Oh my goodness," Jason whispered in awe. "I think someone loves you, Em."

A knot formed deep inside, wringing out every drop of love for the girl. "Hi, princess." She smiled and kissed the smooth little forehead.

Garbled baby gibberish came out and her legs kicked in excitement. And then Henrietta's face scrunched up and she burst into tears.

"Baby, what's wrong?" She shifted the girl to recline higher.

"Movement probably hurts. Lay her on the bed for a moment." He washed and gloved and then looked under the bandages. "Here we go, poppet." A catheter that stuck out of the bandage was taped to the little thigh. The moment he straightened a kink and offered relief, the tears turned to soft hiccups. "There. All better. It's alright, love," he cooed and replaced the bandages as Henrietta stared up at his face, rubbing the tears from her eyes with a tiny fist.

"I didn't know they put a catheter in. How long does she need that?"

"Until the tissue is built up enough again that the acidity of her urine won't cause damage. Likely a couple weeks."

Stroking Henrietta's arm, she bit her lip and looked up at him. "They gave her a little morphine through the IV a bit ago."

He nodded, not seeming concerned. "As long as they're closely monitoring dosage and her, it's safe. She needs that level of pain relief with her wounds."

Nibbling her lip, she met his eye. "Her wounds aren't unlike what you've had, yet you resist pain meds." An ache formed inside. One nurse had convinced him of a possible pain med addiction and to this day he still believed the woman.

His gaze shifted away. "She needs it, Emma."

When he pulled off the gloves, she set a hand on his arm. "There are times when I wish you'd trust my word more than others."

That blue eye shifted away for a moment before returning. Then he left her with the girl as he washed.

Henrietta clutched the giraffe in one hand and stretched out the arm with the brace to be picked up off the bed. Her face scrunched up when she spotted the brace. She shook her arm. A deep line of frustration creased her brow when it didn't fall off.

"That must stay on, love." She scooped up the girl to cradle like a baby, one of the few positions that wouldn't disturb the wounds. "Do you like your giraffe? What does a giraffe say? I don't even know," she cooed in a baby voice and nuzzled the giraffe's head against Henrietta's cheek.

The girl giggled and squealed, grabbing the giraffe's head. Excited babbling ensued.

Instead of coming back over, Jason stood back with a solemn expression. "Emma."

Her smile faded at the seriousness of his tone, and she gazed at the precious child in her arms. "I know. It doesn't matter. She'll learn sign language or other ways to communicate."

"Emma, aphasia isn't always only speech related. There could be writing and other comprehension disabilities that we don't even know about. I just want you to be prepared for the worst," he said in quiet tones. "You sit by her side like a mother; I don't want you to get a broken heart."

Her eyes flashed to him and so much anger burst out. "I don't see any parents rushing to check on her! A foster home is supposed to be temporary, not an orphanage! It's been two days, and maybe they're the ones who hurt her!" The vehemence startled even herself. Poor Henrietta cowered in her arms with a whimper, as if used to shouting accompanying pain. "I'm sorry. It's alright, baby." She cuddled the dear closer and took a deep breath to calm down. "No one's been a mother to her in a long time, if ever. Don't tell me to walk away because she might be hurt."

He stepped closer and set a hand on her back. "You know that I'm not asking you to walk away. Just be ready for bad news, sweetheart. She needs more tests and consults, but it doesn't look promising." Sadness softened his voice, and he stroked the back of Henrietta's head as the girl rested a cheek on her chest.

Easing the child away, she laid Henrietta in his arms. Jason wanted to hold her - it was as clear as the sky was blue. He just didn't trust himself.

"Emma, the mask will scare her. She's so afraid of everything," he panicked but accepted the child that she shoved at him.

"She learns to fear what she is taught to fear." Then she stepped back.

With a furrowed brow, Henrietta patted the mask and shoved the giraffe in her mouth.

"Emma, she's nervous." He moved to give Henrietta back.

"She's nervous because you are. You're good with children, Jay." She stood back and watched.

"Don't eat your giraffe, silly lass." He smiled and eased the toy out of her mouth. "You don't know how many people touched that in the gift shop. No, you don't, poppet." The moment the girl gave a grin, his shoulders relaxed. That single moment of acceptance was all he needed. Then he walked over to the rocking chair and sat down, careful to not tangle the IV line. He rocked for several minutes, simply cradling the girl and chatting to her about nothing. Henrietta stuck a fist in her mouth and chewed her fingers while gazing at Jason.

"Are you teething, poppet?" His finger slipped past her lips. "Ow!" He pulled his hand out and shook it with a smile. "Gracious, lass, you have a sharp tooth coming in." Without even breaking gaze with Henrietta, he pulled out a fresh handkerchief from his pocket and said, "Em, would you put cold water on this for her to chew?"

She smiled and returned with a damp, cold rag.

He set the edge to Henrietta's mouth, and the girl's hand latched onto his finger as she pulled the wad in. The sweet thing chewed happily even though she likely didn't have any discomfort with the morphine.

Standing back and watching him with the girl, her heart flipped. He looked so perfect with a baby in his arms, so happy. The contrast of a tiny hand wrapped around his finger could melt any heart.

"Let me see what a big girl you are." He held Henrietta up under the arms to stand on his thighs while the girl continued to chew on his handkerchief.

Apparently that position offered great fun because babbling and squeals filled the air. Her little legs flexed and bounced her body up and down.

"Do you like that? Look at you!" He fussed and cooed and fed into the smiles. "Look at that smile, pretty girl."

Henrietta dropped her head onto his shoulder in bashfulness, as if understanding his words. Thankfully his muscling prevented any tears from her forehead colliding with his shoulder.

"Where'd you go, lass?" The self-consciousness melted away in him, and he seemed so comfortable with Henrietta, like he'd known the girl for years. Like he was her father.

That little head popped up with a giggle.

"There you are!" He gasped in surprise. "Where's your nose?"

Her braced arm flew up to grab her nose, but he caught it just before she bashed her face.

"Oh! Wrong arm," he chuckled. "Good job! Do you know what a cow says?"

The smile froze and the girl looked confused.

"A cow says, 'mooo.'"

"ooo, ooo, ooo!" Then her forehead slammed onto his shoulder again with a shy smile as she bounced her legs.

Such a deep laugh bubbled out of him. "Show me all of those pearly teeth, lass. Big ahhhhh."

She frowned in curiosity as Henrietta copied him and he lifted the child to peek in her mouth. "Are you testing her?"

A smile split his lips. "My dear, Henrietta is not lagging so far behind in cognition. And I believe the foster home misjudged her age."

"What do you mean?" Hope glimmered.

"Her cuspid teeth have recently emerged, which usually occurs between sixteen to twenty-two months, but often at eighteen months. See, the gums are still slightly swollen from the eruption."

Walking over, she squatted beside him to look where he pointed. "So how old is she?"

"It's hard to say, but I'm hard pressed to say that she's twenty-two months like the foster home says. She's small for even an eighteen-month-old child, perhaps a bit physically stunted from malnutrition. She has so little baby fat that she appears older than what I suspect she is. With proper nutrition, I expect her to fill out quite a bit to look more like a baby."

"But the doctors are looking for skills of a twenty-two-month-old child." Her heart beat faster.

He smiled. "I daresay the physician is so focused on the wounds that he didn't look that close at the rest of her yet."

"Go tell them!" She pushed on his back and took the baby as he stood with a grin.

The doctors came in to run a battery of more tests. The moment she set Henrietta in a crib bed to go to the neuro lab for an EEG, Henrietta screamed and stood in the crib as tears rolled down. That little hand stretched up, as if letting go meant never seeing her again.

"Baby, it's okay. I'm coming too," she soothed and bent down to hold her hand as she walked alongside the crib.

Sobs and frantic screams continued, however. It hurt seeing Henrietta so terrified - like the child remembered being abandoned by her parents.

Jason grabbed the crib to stop the nurses from continuing down the hall. He scooped up Henrietta and handed her over. The darling calmed down and held tight to her shirt, as if afraid to let go. Then he turned to the nurse. "I assume that legally you can transport in a wheelchair if Emma sits in it and holds the baby?"

The nurse nodded and went to get a wheelchair.

As Henrietta buried her face against her neck and sniffled, she cuddled the child and looked up at Jason.

His hand rested on the small of her back, and he stroked Henrietta's back too in protectiveness. "Emma," he said in quiet tones as he looked between her and the baby with such love, "somehow I don't think the two of you can be separated."

Perhaps the sound of his deep, lulling timber offered comfort or Henrietta just needed his broad chest to stretch out over his heartbeat, but the girl grabbed his shirt and pulled, as if trying to bring him closer.

He took the girl and brushed away her lingering tears. Then Henrietta sighed in contentment, laid her head on his chest, and closed her eyes in sleep. His large hand engulfed the back of that little head, holding her with exquisite care. "You're safe, poppet," he whispered. "You're safe." When his eye met hers over Henrietta's head, his heart was already gone.

Jason seemed more on edge than Henrietta during the tests. He hovered around the medical staff, snapping at anyone who didn't follow technique to the 'T', and questioned physicians whom he thought made assumptions too fast.

She set a hand on his rock hard back in the MRI viewing room. "Jason, it's alright."

"She's been in long enough," he barked and flung out a hand at the technicians. "Every minute in the machine results in higher radiation dose, and it's not good for her to be sedated again. She's not even two years old." The man paced.

"I assure you that we're using minimal dosage," the physicist said in a calm manner and did well ignoring Jason's frazzled state.

"Jason, he does this every day. You have to trust that he knows what he's doing."

He pulled her aside and hissed in low tones, "We don't know if he's a quack. I've worked with morons, whom by the grace of God, didn't end up killing their patients."

Setting her hands on his shoulders, she held his eye. "Calm down. You're acting like a lunatic father. She's alright."

"Because no one's been looking out for her and look at where it's gotten her! Shit, I need something to drink." He marched for the door and then turned, pointing from her to the medical staff as if saying to keep an eye on them.

She smiled and shooed him out.

The moment the door closed, the physicist spoke up without turning around. "First child?"

Her cheeks burned. "Actually, we found her in the woods a few days ago and brought her in. She's in a foster home."

"Huh, coulda fooled me. He acts crazy like some of the doctor fathers I get in here." A smile softened his words. "I'm using the lowest doses possible. She's almost done."

Jason returned less than five minutes later with two cups and handed her one. "Strawberry shake," he growled.

"Thanks." She took a sip and her stomach growled. Keeping so busy with Henrietta meant not realizing that breakfast and lunch time has passed. Her gaze shifted to the window where the staff were getting Henrietta out of the MRI.

"My lawyer called a few minutes ago."

She looked up at Jason.

"We have to go this afternoon to sign the paperwork. Trudy and Pete have been briefed that the children will be living at the house as of tomorrow." He took a sip of his shake. "Needless to say Pete and Trudy are thrilled to have children in the house. She's running around washing sheets and everything while Pete is baking cookies."

"Good. They'll be good with the children, and Pete will be good at keeping them in line."

"The lawyer also said Henrietta's mother is going to be deemed unfit in a couple weeks - child services removed Henrietta because of physical abuse. The mother doesn't know who the father is."

Her stomach lurched and she stared at the sleeping girl being moved onto a bed. "How long ago was she brought to the foster home?" Henrietta did remember.

"Six months. The mother has been arrested for some other things since. Henrietta will be up for adoption in a month."

Her eyes flew to him.

He continued staring straight ahead. "Five of the other children are expected to be reunited with their families by Christmas. The four remaining children are still new enough to foster care that it's unknown if they'll be reunited with their families or put up for adoption." He glanced at her.

Her eyebrows rose. "Are you saying you want to adopt Henrietta?"

"I'm saying it's an option on the table. This isn't something we should jump into." His gaze held with that quiet calmness of his. He offered no further words as the staff wheeled the sleeping girl out.

* * *

She stood in the foyer and clasped her hands tight, never so nervous at the prospect of meeting children. The blue shirt and full, ankle-length blue floral skirt with black flats should be appropriate for meeting foster children. A glance behind at Trudy and Pete revealed them as nervous too.

Jason opened the door with a smile. "Hello! Come in, come in." He stepped back to open the door wider.

Nine children of ages ten to eighteen filtered in, their mouths falling open as they gawked at the foyer.

"Is this a hotel?" the youngest girl asked, clinging to the hand of an older girl.

"Lydia, hush," the older girl snapped.

The children all looked nervous like they expected something bad to happen.

"I didn't mean it," the girl whimpered and looked terrified.

She frowned at Jason, who looked just as baffled. "It's alright, sweetheart." She leaned down to look at Lydia, who hid behind the older girl. "Don't be scared." When she held out a hand, the children all tensed. They expected abuse. First thing first. She sat on the floor - it would seem less threatening. "Come sit - "

One of the older boys stepped forward and glared, with fierce defiance and protectiveness in his eyes. "No."

Jason's head cocked. He stepped around beside her and folded his hands behind his back. Gentleness but authority laced his tone. "I'm Dr. Port and this is my wife, Mrs. Port. Ms. Van Hoodie is the housekeeper and cook, and Mr. Stevens is the driver and assists in other duties. I'm sure you all know that we are the foster home owners now and that all staff have been fired.

"While your housing is being repaired and remodeled, you will be staying here at our house for a couple weeks." He looked at Lydia with a smile. "And no, it's not a hotel, love." Then he looked at all of the children again. "We have three rules in this household that I expect will be obeyed. First: no violence of any means from anyone who lives under this roof, including the adults. This includes hitting, spanking, etcetera. If we hear of anyone who breaks the rule, there will be timeouts or groundings, depending on age. If it persists, further privileges will be removed. There will not be spankings or any sort of physical punishment in this house."

The children seemed surprised and a bit confused by such a concept.

"Second: You will respect each other and the adults in this house. No one is going to ask you to do something that will humiliate or harm you." He gave a pointed look to the boy who had denied her request for everyone to sit. "That includes addressing Mrs. Port with respect." Then his eye shifted back to everyone.

The boy looked a little sheepish.

"Third: This is your home, so you are free to run and play. However, I expect items in this house to be treated with care. Most everything that is dangerous has been removed to the attic; however, we did not expect your arrival so quickly - "

"What's dangerous?" One of the younger boys asked.

Jason cracked a smile. "One such item yet to be moved is knight armor from Spain."

The children murmured in awe. "Is it real?"

"It's quite real." He glanced down at her and held out a hand. As he helped her up when she nodded for him to give the word, he said, "Would you like to see it?"

Soft murmurings of agreement followed.

"Upstairs." He took her on his arm and led the way. The children followed quiet and obedient.

She glanced at him, the same frown on his face. These children didn't know how to be children.

On the third step, he stopped and turned. The children all stopped too. "This will not do."

Fear flashed through their eyes, ripping out her heart.

"I expect laughter in this house and to be ready to pull my hair out. Do not trip each other. Go!" He flung out an arm.

They stared in shock. "You want us to race?"

He sighed. "Do children not always race up the stairs? Yes! Go!"

It only took one child and then they tore up the stairs in a herd, squealing and laughing and shouting who was in the lead.

She smiled and let him continue to lead the way. Pete and Trudy darted into the kitchen and returned with trays of cookies to follow.

A grin brightened his face. "Ah, that is a good sound, Em." His low baritone cut under the ruckus, and his hand rested over hers on his arm.

Oos and ahs filled the hall as the children huddled around the knight armor.

"Ahhhhh! Cookies!" Lydia practically screamed with excitement as Trudy and Pete came up the steps.

Their eyes lit up.

And her stomach twisted, finally taking in their thin frames and worn clothes that Jason had spoken of last night. He'd sent Trudy and Pete on a shopping spree yesterday, and selections of clothes laid in the children's bedrooms for a surprise. "First, we will wash our hands." She smiled and glanced at Jason in excitement. "Boys, follow Dr. Port and girls follow me."

She led the girls to the closed doorways of the rooms on the right side of the hall while Jason led the boys to the left side. "These are your rooms, with two or three to a room."

"We don't all have to share?" Lydia, who seemed to be the brave one, looked confused.

"No, love," Jason answered. "Mrs. Port and I are at the end of the hall. These are your rooms and what are on the beds are yours. Open the doors."

The children did. The girls squealed and darted inside their three rooms upon seeing the clothes. The younger boys groaned.

"But, I just got this one comfortable." One boy of perhaps twelve years pulled at his thin cotton t-shirt.

Jason smiled and ruffled the boy's brown locks. "It's time to look more presentable for the ladies. Come, lads." He ushered the boys inside, throwing her a smile as she went inside to help the girls.

Minutes later, the children sat in the hall around the knight armor and ate cookies. Prince traveled among the children, lapping up crumbs and not being cut short on pettings. The children looked enraptured by Jason's eloquent story of the tale behind this piece of armor said to have come from a knight on a quest for his lady love. Jason proved to be quite the storyteller.

"This house has needed more life, don'tcha know," Trudy whispered and surveyed the children.

Swallowing hard, she nodded. There had been a void since losing the baby, like a giant hole existed in every room that should've beene preparing for the arrival of a baby soon. "There's too many rooms in this house, Trudy. Maybe these are meant to be our children." When Trudy frowned and set an arm around her shoulders in question, she stared straight ahead to hold back the tears. "We haven't used protection always, and there's still no baby. Maybe there's something wrong with me." The monthly time had come again this month, just like clockwork.

"Dearie me, it hasn't been so long. Give yourself time. Your body healed not long ago too. A baby will come when the time is right."

This wasn't the time or place for this conversation. "I'm going to go back and check on Henrietta."

* * *

Soft hums soothed Henrietta's tears after the bandage change. Holding the poor love in her arms, she rocked in the rocking chair as the nurse gave dinner through the feeding tube. The girl held on so tight, as if afraid of her leaving again.

"Don't cry, Mrs. Port. The volunteer played with her while you were gone. She only fussed a little." The nurse recapped the feeding tube and handed her a tissue.

"I shouldn't have left. She probably remembers her mother leaving and must've been afraid I did too." She dabbed at her eyes and looked down. Henrietta fought exhaustion to keep an eye on her like falling asleep meant disappearing again.

"Even mothers need a break from the hospital. She's alright." Then the nurse glanced overhead and gave a soft smile before slipping out.

Heavy footsteps crossed and Jason stepped around to kneel at her feet. Worry clouded his eye. "How is she?" He stroked Henrietta's hair.

"She cried for the bandage change, and she is fighting going to sleep like she's scared I'll leave again." Her voice broke in the last words.

"Emma, it's a hard lesson for her to learn that people will come back, but it's good for her to realize. Have you spoken with the physician?" When she shook her head, he took her hand and released a sigh from the depths of his soul. "I ran into him in the hall. Legally he isn't supposed to be telling us anything, but we're the only ones besides a social worker who comes to see her." He stroked her wedding ring and stared at it for a moment, as if not wanting to shatter everything for just a few more moments.

Tears welled. "It's bad."

He shook his head. When he looked up, tears shimmered in his eye. "There's that spot on her brain that is dead. Much speech may never be possible for her. Her brain seems to function properly otherwise. Only time will tell if she has learning disabilities. It's the best we could've hoped for with her brain injury.

"Physically, she's small for an eighteen month old. Her motor skills are lagging because her legs aren't strong enough to support her for long periods of time. The physician agrees that as nutrition improves, so will her motor skills."

The tears fell at the same time as his. "Then why are you crying?"

"Because I was worried. And worried how you'd take it if it was bad news." He brushed at his eye and sniffled. "Cripes, no one tells you how much a child makes you worry. May I hold her for a bit?" He looked exhausted like a thousand pounds had been lifted.

Pressing a kiss to Henrietta's downy-soft cheek, she stood and handed over the girl. "I'm going to fix my makeup. Are the children doing alright?"

He cradled the baby and took her seat in the rocking chair. "Take your time, Em. You've been here all morning. The children are settling in fine and send hugs to Henrietta."

When she stepped out minutes later, her heart wrenched. Jason's shirt splayed open and Henrietta slept on his chest wearing just the bandage and the little hospital gown draped over her back like a blanket. He'd once mentioned that skin-to-skin contact was thought to stimulate an infant's brain development; he must hope it'd help Henrietta too. His hands held her safe as he rested in a patch of light streaming in from the window with his eye closed. Even with all the tubes coming out of Henrietta, it was a beautiful, serene scene bathed in tender love. She leaned against the wall and simply watched the two of them.

Henrietta sighed and shifted after a moment, as if uncertain if she wanted to wake up yet.

"Shh, lass. Ye be safe," he purred in his melodic lilt. His eye didn't open, but he slowly rocked the chair and softly sang a Scottish ballad, as if unaware of her presence.

The girl quieted and fell asleep, as if knowing he would move heaven and earth to keep her from harm.

As the song ended, he continued to rock the chair with his eye closed. His hand stroked the blonde curls and he whispered, "Ah love ye."


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews for the last few chapters, #HomeGirl, Awed, Guests, Farisiya, YazminXD, BonapartNumberCrunch, caroltrivillini and Marine Dolphin! (I think that's everyone - I'm so far behind on my thanks!)**

 **And no, there won't be massive adoptions. It's not a Brady Bunch novel. Lol! :)**

* * *

"Are you certain?" Worry chewed relentlessly. She bit her lip.

He smiled and crawled across the bed. "She is in good hands with the nurses and will sleep through the night. We have a big day bringing her home tomorrow and need a good night's sleep." Jason slid the sheets down, pulled the silk nightgown over her head, and tossed it aside.

"If she wakes up, she'll cry." Sweet Henrietta had come to count on her being there the past two weeks, even when it meant curling up in her lap while getting work done on the laptop.

He caught her panties with his teeth and slid them down.

Henrietta had so much trouble communicating and had tantrums so easily. "If she wants something and they don't know, she'll get frustrated and cry. Jay, she'll work herself into a fit. Did you leave both of our cell phone numbers? Maybe I should go back."

Heaving a sigh, he leaned up on his hands and knees with a cocked eyebrow. "They have us on speed dial by now. She'll be fine. She was exhausted. Whenever she yawns and rubs her right eye, she's so tired that she sleeps through the night. You left the nurses three pages of instructions for what Henrietta does when she's sad, angry, tired, hungry... She'll be alright for eight hours, Em." Then he leaned forward and nipped her neck as his hand cupped her breast.

The catheter! "Did I include what she does if her catheter kinks? I don't think I wrote that down." Her heart pounded. How long would it take before they'd think to check the catheter?

With a groan, his forehead dropped on her shoulder. "Yes. You even wrote down how she might act if ill, which she hasn't been." His words muffled. "Five minutes. Every waking moment has been about the children or Henrietta for three weeks. I just want five minutes of your attention."

That's right, the other children had wanted to play games today, but she'd needed to run to the hospital when Henrietta had an allergic reaction. One of the nurses hadn't realized Jason had been on duty, just down at the cafeteria grabbing lunch. So she'd raced to the hospital only to find that Jason had everything under control. The other foster children had been understanding and worried about Henrietta, but eventually they'd become resentful of Henrietta needing her so much. And work was suffering. Olin made a comment last week that productivity had better pick back up. Late nights and early mornings this week had helped to catch up on cases, but this schedule would lead to burnout fast.

The light turned out.

She blinked at the darkness. Oh god, had she just been that distracted during sex? Had there been sex? Dear god, he'd probably given up thinking he couldn't satisfy her. He didn't even touch as he laid in bed. She rolled toward him and reached out to encounter his back. He faced away. Oh crap.

"Get some sleep, Emma." The words came out quiet and gentle, but nearly invisible hurt leaked out through the simple fact that he didn't use a pet name.

"I'm sorry. I feel like I'm being pulled in a hundred directions, and I don't know how to be in the moment anymore or how to divide my time." He'd been as patient as a saint these three weeks with not getting an ounce of her attention, much less sleeping in the same bed or at the same time anymore with their shifts with Henrietta. She slipped an arm around him.

His fingers laced with hers on his stomach. "Things will settle down with Henrietta not being in the hospital. You won't loose so much work time having to drive to the hospital or take rigid hospital sitting shifts. Goodnight, sweetheart."

Just like that, he forgave and again took the backseat for her attention, probably prepared for how many more weeks of being neglected. He seemed so collected all the time, always having enough time for each child, always there when Henrietta or she needed him. And she hadn't been able to offer him the same support. Leaning her forehead against his scarred back, she whispered, "I don't know how to be a parent to them all at once like you do."

He shifted, forcing her to move as he rolled onto his back but didn't release her hand. "I don't know how to do it either, Em. I just know that if my father would've given my mother and I five minutes of his earnest attention, I would've felt like he at least cared about me. I try to give everyone at least five minutes of daily one-on-one time and hope every day to learn from my mistakes and do better the next day. Worry comes with the territory of parenthood. You do your best to be prepared and protect them, but life is not completely in our control. You do your best and then ask God to take care of the rest."

So simple and yet so wise. His shoulder felt so smooth and warm and strong against her cheek. "I'm sorry I've put you at the bottom of my list. I don't mean to."

A soft sigh broke the silence and his fingers played with hers. "I know. Children should always come first. It's just...it's a hard lesson to learn in three weeks how to go from first to last. At least pregnancy gives a man nine months to get ready for it. I'm an adult, and my purpose isn't to add to your laundry list." He raised her hand and his lips brushed her knuckles.

Something inside wrenched and her heart broke. "I don't want you to be last." Leaning up on her elbow, she pressed a kiss against his warm cheek. And she slipped a hand down his pajama bottoms.

His hand clamped around her wrist at the same moment a soft gasp of surprise escaped him. "I don't want pity sex."

"Oh. Okay." She bit her lip with a smile and laid down on her side, spooning up to him. "I guess I have to settle for this."

"Saucy brat," he growled, the smile evident in his voice. In a heartbeat, he caught her thigh and jerked her closer, giving a swat to her bottom.

"Oh no, have I been a bad girl?" The purred words didn't hold one ounce of distress as he climbed on top.

"Bad lass," he snorted in a heavy accent and settled down his weight, "why, ye've been wicked." His hand stroked, demanding instant pleasure that made her squirm with restlessness. "Ah shouldna let ye out o' this bed fer a week." He pinned her wrists to the mattress and his hot mouth captured her breast, eliciting a moan of desire. "Hush, lass. Ye neglected yer husband nigh a month. Ah expect ye ta make up fer it."

Oh dear heaven, his burr alone was wonderful torture itself. "But I should...pleasure you." Surely panting this hard couldn't be healthy.

"Nay, Ah want ta see t' pleasure me wife finds in me," he purred in a caramel-smooth baritone. Then he sent away all coherent thought.

* * *

"Sweetheart, we have to get up."

His voice drifted through the world of slumber. A soft caress over her cheek. A long stroke of a finger down her body over skin so sensitive and yet so relaxed in sleep. The touch beckoned to come closer to consciousness.

"Emma, love," he whispered, his breath stirring strands of hair near her ear. His hand stroked, her body too tired from last night to do more than gradually respond.

"So tired," she sighed without opening her eyes.

"I know, love. I'll be gentle. You don't have to wake up yet."

His slow, soft lovemaking kept her body half asleep, drifting in a world suspended in gentle pleasure. Her arms wrapped around his back, the heat of him so relaxing and safe. He didn't demand her release, simply offered a basking in the warm, fuzzy feelings that floated in a state of utter relaxation.

Every inch of him gradually tensed, as if battling his own pleasure. "I'm sorry, you're so beautiful..." He panted and stilled, as if trying to stop himself.

Wrapping her legs around his, she pulled him closer to urge him to find his release.

That simple act made him hold tighter as his body coiled in release. And then his muscles softened as he melted into a puddle in her arms. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, Jay." She sighed in contentment.

"I didn't intend to stop that soon." A note of self-consciousness rode the undertones of his voice. "You're so beautiful that sometimes the desire is too much," he apologized.

A lump in her throat hindered any words, so she simply trailed her fingers up and down his poor back, the scars another reminder of his love.

"Did I please you?" He sounded so worried and embarrassed.

She opened her eyes as he moved to roll off. He must've misread the silence. "Stay." Meeting his confused expression, she wrapped her legs tighter around his thighs. "You more than pleased me, Jay. Don't go yet. Be part of me for a few moments longer."

So he settled his weight and joined her body as best he could in the after bliss. "You find comfort in this?" His heart so clearly melted. He propped up on his elbows and searched her eyes.

Her face burned. He probably thought it weird and perverse. Biting her lip, she glanced away. Maybe he'd let it drop.

The words squeezed out of his throat in a whisper. "I never would've imagined my wife wouldn't want this off of her as soon as possible."

Her eyes flew to his face filled with shame and humiliation, breaking her heart. Cupping his strong jaw in one palm and the crushed side of his beautiful face as gently as possible in the other, her gaze didn't waiver. Emotion made it hard to speak, and unshed tears burned. "You are not a thing. You're my husband whom I love - the man who makes this safe and perfect and beautiful. When you leave after making love, it feels like I've lost a piece of my soul." The words came out in a soft lover's whisper. "Sometimes I want this more than passion - to be part of you for even just a few moments."

His lips pressed together and his eye shimmered. Unable to speak, he simply nodded and bowed his head. In that moment, his heart said what his voice couldn't.

* * *

Henrietta did not like the car seat. Bucking and fussing and a few screams of frustration later from the child, and Jason had her strapped in the middle of the backseat between them.

"Is it too tight?" She glanced at Jason and held up the giraffe toy as a distraction for the girl.

He shook his head and buckled his own seatbelt. "I daresay she's never been in a carseat." His fierce look spoke of similar thoughts that Henrietta's parents had either never taken the girl to a doctor or had left her unbuckled in the car. The ride home took too long.

She unbuckled Henrietta and the fussing ceased. "It's alright, baby." Cuddling the sniffling girl tight, she got out with Jason's aid.

"I think she was missed."

Following his eye, she turned to the front door. All of the children stood on the front step in the Saturday morning sunlight with grins.

Henrietta gurgled and shrieked with delight, squirming to go to them.

With a smile, she set down the girl. The children hurried down the steps. Instead of Henrietta waddling to them in an adorable run, she dropped to her hands and knees to crawl.

Jason scooped up the child before she hurt herself on the gravel drive. As the children chattered and welcomed Henrietta back, Jason's eye looked over their heads and met her gaze in concern. Henrietta couldn't walk.

The oldest girl must've noticed their looks because she said, "She has gained a lot of weight since coming." Anger crossed her face on behalf of her foster sister. "The staff said she's dumb, but she walks with us." Holding out her arms, she took Henrietta from Jason.

The children knew just what to do because two girls held her arms. Henrietta immediately squealed and bounced on her legs like she had done with Jason at the hospital, like being on her feet was a novelty. A younger boy squatted and helped Henrietta move her legs to walk. All of the children backed up from Henrietta and cheered her on. An ear-piercing shriek of delight filled the air as she worked her way toward them.

Maybe there was more brain damage than the doctors realized. Even so, more love swelled for the child seeing her walk.

Jason squatted and his eye squinted a bit as he studied Henrietta's profile. Cheers erupted when she reached the children, and her spitty girgle was met with laughs and smiles. Jason, however, seemed deep in concentration.

When Henrietta spotted him, she bounced on her legs and babbled in glee, working hard to turn herself around. When the boy didn't pay attention and walk her legs, she gave a single, short scream of frustration. The boy immediately helped her, as if that was Henrietta's known way of saying she wanted assistance. The children seemed to understand Henrietta even though the sweet thing didn't speak a word of English. As soon as the dear started forward, she returned to smiles and adorable squeals.

But instead of smiling, Jason frowned and held up a hand. "Let her move her legs herself."

"But she can't."

"She needs help."

"The doctor said her brain is hurt."

So many protests came forth from the children, as if they'd learned to be Henrietta's advocates.

Jason's sharp look silenced them all. "She'll never learn if she's always babied. Hold her hands tight - I don't think her legs are strong enough to support her, but she's fully capable of moving them."

So the boy let go. When a shriek of frustration and look at the boy that didn't bring him back, Henrietta burst into tears.

Jason stepped forward and took Henrietta's hands himself. Then he took a step back, his low voice cutting under her sobs. "Come, poppet. You can walk." He tilted Henrietta's weight forward just enough to simulate a slow fall, triggering her leg to drag forward to catch herself.

It was a step like that of a child months younger.

"She's walking!"

"It's her first step by herself!"

Excited chatter encircled the group.

Tears welled. Perhaps more of a reflex than a true step, but it was a step. Her first step. And Jason had been the one to help her do it with all of them there to see it. It hurt to see the dear girl struggle with something so simple, but Jason was the perfect one to teach Henrietta to do the impossible.

"Ah! What a good lass! You're walking! Big girl!" Jason cooed and praised and smiled, fussing over her so much that Henrietta grinned and tried to drop her head down in a shy smile.

It was so sweet how much his praise always made Henrietta bashful. The little girl certainly had his temper, but she also had his stubborn courage. A babble like she told him something and her face scrunched in concentration led to another shuffle-step. Then she looked up at him like seeking praise. As soon as he cheered and lavished praise, her little face buried against his hand engulfing hers and she peeked up at him with that shy smile.

It was enough to melt even the coldest heart.

His deep belly laugh as he swung Henrietta up in his arms won smiles from the other children. "Shall we go celebrate everyone being home? Mr. Stevens made brownies." His arm slung around one of the boy's shoulders as the children raced for the house. Lydia walked over and held his sleeve like she didn't want to be left out. He stopped and handed Henrietta to the boy. Then he knelt and had Lydia climb on his back for a piggyback ride before he continued forward. The boy carried Henrietta on his right and one of the older girls fell in step on his left and joined in the conversation.

He looked so perfect surrounded by children. They seemed to just gravitate to him, as if knowing he always had room to love one more.

At the front door, he turned and smiled. "Come, Em."

With a smile from the depths of her heart, she hurried after him.

* * *

"Why do you wear that mask?" Lydia swung her legs at the kitchen table as she ate her brownie with milk.

"Lydia!" an older girl scolded on her left. The other children crammed around the island and table looked embarrassed.

He sat at the table with Henrietta in his lap as she mutilated a brownie. Humiliation, uncertainty, and fear of rejection colored his expression.

The instinct to protect him surged up, but it took a deep breath to maintain a steady, patient voice. She set a hand on his arm from his right side.

"A fire," he answered with a downcast eye and quiet words. "The disfigurement is not decent to subject anyone to."

"What's disfigurement?" Lydia frowned.

"His face burned off. Shut up, Lydia," one of the boys scolded. "Leave him alone." Then the boy looked at him. "It doesn't matter. We think you're awesome."

He forced a smile but still didn't look up. "Thank you, but don't tell someone to shut up." Then he handed over Henrietta and walked out.

"Did I hurt his feelings?" Lydia's eyes reddened with welling tears.

She readjusted Henrietta in her lap. "No, dear." Concerned gazes surrounded the table. "People have been cruel to him because of the burns. Sometimes he's just afraid that people might be frightened."

"But he's so nice. Why would anyone be frightened?" The oldest girl looked confused.

A sad smile. "Because not everyone gets to know him first. It took over a year for him to trust me. There is one other rule that he didn't mention: when a door is closed, you wait for his permission to open it. He has a right to feel safe to remove the mask in his own home."

The girls looked heartbroken for him and the boys outraged on his behalf. Except one of the younger boys, who seemed morbidly intrigued. "Is his eyeball gone?"

Her sharp look silenced him. Then she handed Henrietta to Trudy, who looked just as worried about Jason. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

No sign of him in the office or bedroom. The arboretum. She trotted down the hall and pushed open the heavy stain glass door. There in the corner, he knelt and cut red roses, laying them on the ground in a pile. Crossing over, there was no need for words - his pain reverberated and he seemed aware of her presence even though he didn't look up.

"I do not pretend to understand it." He cut a rose and added it to the pile. "These thrive under my touch as much as you seem to. Two such beautiful things and yet neither rejects the touch of a beast. I cannot for the life of me make a cactus thrive any more than I can make society tolerate me." Another rose added to the bouquet.

"Don't," she snapped and dropped to her knees beside him. "You know I hate that lie. You are no such thing."

Peeling off the mask, he slowly turned to her. "Look me in the eye and say a child won't fear this." Grief filled his voice.

She shook her head and swallowed hard. "A child who grows up knowing you are kind won't see it any more than I do."

A snort of disgust filled the air as he put the mask on. "You believe in miracles - "

"And you don't believe in them enough. You are not some monster!"

The anger in his eye halted further comment. "Watch them when I return - there will be fear when before there was none," he hissed. Then he snatch the bouquet of roses, not even mindful of the thorns, and stormed out. He used anger to hide the heartbreak of losing his bond with the children...and he failed miserably at hiding his pain.

The rush of running water filled the kitchen. No other sound. The children must be upstairs. Stepping into the kitchen, she stopped dead in her tracks. The children still sat there, silent and tense and staring at Jason's broad back as he filled a vase for the roses.

Lydia clutched a paper in her hands and crayons laid on the table. But the girl had a worried and nervous expression.

She walked over and knelt. Surely the children hadn't been trying to draw and figure out what Jason's face looked like. "What do you have there?" The moment Lydia lowered the picture, her heart split open.

A little girl held the hand of a man wearing a mask, both of them smiling and standing in a field of flowers. _I'm sorry_ scrolled across the top.

"Oh my. He's going to love that. Go give it to him, love."

But Lydia shook her head and looked to be on the verge of tears. "When he came in and I said his name, he made a growl like a lion and ignored me." The girl whispered, as if afraid of being caught.

"Sometimes he grunts when his feelings are hurt. I don't think he's trying to ignore you." She looked at all the children, keeping her voice low so Jason wouldn't hear over the running water. "He thinks you're all afraid of him now."

Brave Lydia got up, walked over, and tapped him on the back. When he turned, she shoved the picture at him.

He slowly took it, clearly struggling to remain composed. Then he stepped forward and hugged Lydia. "You don't need to be sorry," he said in a thick voice.

Lydia returned the hug. One of the other children walked over and joined in and then another and another until they had a big group hug.

"We aren't afraid, Dr. Port," the oldest girl said. "You forget that we know what monsters are or some of us wouldn't be in foster care. You've shown us kindness and love - for some of us for the first time." Her face turned red. "We love you."

He brushed at his eye. "I love you all too."

In the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by children, he changed. They had restored faith in him that she never would've been able to on her own.

"Bobby." Jason looked up and held out his hand.

One boy in his early teens remained seated at the table by himself. He just shook his head. Perhaps he was scared of what might lie beneath the mask or perhaps he was troubled, but Jason took the rejection with grace.

"Did you get the flowers for Mrs. Port?" Lydia asked.

Jason smiled and handed each child a rose even though the older boys looked both tickled and embarrassed. Then he brought forth a small bouquet for her in offering and held her eyes. "I brought them for everyone." Red. He had given roses of love to everyone.

* * *

"An unexpected surprise." Mr. Henry held his notepad and pen at the ready and sat in a chair across from Jason's desk.

Jason stood beside where she sat in his chair with Henrietta in her lap. His hands remained locked behind his back in perfect military-straight posture.

She smiled and guided Henrietta's crayon back to the paper for coloring rather than on Jason's desk. "Is it? I'd rather say I wasn't surprised one bit when Jason said we were buying the foster home, given Charlotte's Hope and all." Slipping a glance to Mr. Henry, she cocked an eyebrow.

"You forget, Mrs. Port, that few of us have as intimate knowledge of your husband's personality as you." He offered a pleasant smile. This man was so easy to talk to, and the slight witty banter of dodging questions made it a pleasure to converse. If only Jason would relax, Mr. Henry would be a nice friend to have.

"Then you have your work cut out for you." She smiled and shifted Henrietta.

"Aght. Never one to slip out any details," he grinned in good nature. "You seem quite attached to this one." He nodded toward the girl.

"We're attached to them all." There. That served as a diplomatic response.

"Enough to adopt any of them who don't make it out of foster care?"

Oh dear. Maybe he'd heard of Henrietta's pending adoption status. Not wavering from his eyes, she kept her voice steady. "The goal is to reunite them all with their families."

"But this little one is up for adoption soon. If I know you even a little, Mrs. Port, you won't turn away from a child in need of a home, much less one in your own foster care."

"This was not the agreed upon topic, Mr. Henry." Jason's tone held no room for discussion.

Mr. Henry looked Jason straight in the eye but kept his tone gentle. "Dr. Port, announcing your ownership of the foster home - in a certain light - portrays your large heart for children. Children are a soft spot for most people. With all due respect, you could be a very influential figure for the town. You have the means to help support this town in ways it can't support itself. In my opinion, it would behoove you to win over the townsfolk, as well as others who could generously support the Foundation."

Tension vibrated from Jason, and his voice came out as hard as steel. "I do not wish to own the town or have influence over the people - "

Good time to jump in. "Mr. Henry, we wish for the Foundation to not suffer because of people's misconception of my husband - of being painted for his appearance rather than who he is. I hear what you're saying, but he's one to make an anonymous donation rather than splash his name all over."

Mr. Henry nodded. "Of course. What are you comfortable with me sharing then, Dr. Port?"

"Nothing."

Cocking an eyebrow, she looked at Jason. "If you prefer, he and I can have the interview without you."

The man glared.

"Well then, play nice in the sand, Jay. He's here to help us." Then she turned to the reporter, who smothered a smile. "I say you fire questions and see what ones we can answer."

He cleared his throat and flipped to another page of his notepad. "What made you want to start Charlotte's Hope, Dr. Port?"

"I should think it's obvious."

She looked up at Jason. It wasn't entirely jealousy that made him ornery - the man genuinely didn't seem to like discussing himself. Perhaps getting the questions and then asking him in private in bed tonight would make him feel more relaxed. Lifting up Henrietta so she could get up to get Mr. Henry's list, she handed the child to Jason. "Here, take her for a moment."

Henrietta cooed and laughed, jamming a fist in her mouth in excitement at going to Jason.

"Are you alright?" When she nodded, he smiled and took Henrietta. "Hello, poppet. Come here," he cooed, as if forgetting about the audience. When the girl kicked her legs with glee and patted his cheek, he grinned like a fool at the child, the two of them in their own little world.

She smiled when Mr. Henry's jaw fell open.

"Do you want to stand?" Jason sat in the chair and held Henrietta under the arms.

As if on cue, the sweet thing bounced up and down on her legs, trying out her thigh muscles. The customary shriek of excitement pierced the air, followed by rapid babbling mingling with Jason's laughter.

Turning to the reporter's stunned expression, she stepped closer and gestured toward Jason and the baby. "That, Mr. Henry, is my husband."

"Perhaps I've been going about this wrong - not interviewing but observing." Awe filled his voice as he watched Jason with the baby, as if not even believing this to be the same man as a moment ago.

And so Mr. Henry stayed for lunch and observed the household. Jason had no problem ignoring the man and interacting with the children.

"How would you describe Dr. Port, young lady?" Mr. Henry leaned over at the table after lunch and asked one of the older girls as Jason organized the chaos of the children helping clean up.

The girl smiled. "He's very kind. And he's so smart - I asked him this precalculus question in homework, and he taught me in ten minutes what I haven't been able to understand all semester!"

She cocked her head. While working and doing shifts at the hospital, apparently he'd been tutoring the children too. No wonder why he did longer shifts at home and the children loved him so much - he acted like their father in every way. School - that detail had been lost to her during the chaos with Henrietta. Pete must drive the children to a nearby school.

"And Dr. Port is so good with Henrietta," the girl continued.

A deep voice cleared, and she looked up behind Mr. Henry and the girl. "It's illegal to interview minors without guardian consent." Jason crossed his arms over his chest, looking every bit the intimidating SEAL.

Mr. Henry opened his mouth.

"Denied," Jason growled before the man could even form the question.

The girl frowned. "I wasn't going to say anything bad."

"You are not the issue; he is. Take your plate over, please." His eye burned into the reporter as the girl left the table.

A deep sigh escaped Mr. Henry before he learned in to speak to her.

Her chair slid away on its own from Mr. Henry. A squeak of surprise and she grabbed the seat.

Jason slid a chair between them and sat down himself. "Are we having a coze?" Sarcasm dripped from his lips as he glared at the man.

One of the children helping Trudy snickered.

Mr. Henry pursed his lips. "You have a beautiful wife."

His face was out of view, but if it matched the tension in him, it just transformed into a lethal expression.

"Uh, let's go, don'tcha know. Go!" Trudy hurried the children out of the kitchen like she sensed the looming explosion.

"She obviously adores you, so it befuddles me why you're jealous, Dr. Port. I mean no ill will against anyone."

"You have no qualms cozying up to her, much less right under my nose. That," he spat the word, "is ill will. I'm deformed, not demented." Anger oozed in every word.

"Jason!" She set a hand on his arm to stop before it turned ugly. The fear of some man sweeping her away or this convoluted view of himself made him paranoid of Mr. Henry's intentions.

The reporter sat back in his chair. "Because cozying up to her is the only way to get a reaction out of you - to know your true feelings for her since you refuse to speak of them."

She blinked. Her mouth fell open. "Wait, you _are_ flirting? I thought he was imagining it."

Mr. Henry gave her an apologetic look. "Not flirting and I mean no disrespect. Perhaps being a little too friendly is a better term."

These two pushed each other's buttons. Being a pawn in this game served as the final straw. Pushing her chair back, she folded her hands as they both looked up at her in surprise. "Well, gentlemen, I'm done with making sure you play nice. And with being a pawn. You two can rip each other apart. Good day." She swept out.

"Emma!"

"Mrs. Port!"

Heavy footsteps followed. "Em." A large hand wrapped around her arm at the staircase and spun her around. "Don't go. Let me punch him and redeem your honor." A hint of an evil smile tugged at his lips.

Folding her arms over her chest, she gave him a look. "This isn't funny. You two can kill each other for all I care anymore."

"Oh, sweetheart." His hands slipped around her waist and pulled her against his chest. "Ye wouldn't mourn me one wee bit if we killed each other? Ye wound me."

Biting her lip to keep from smiling, she pushed on his chest and gave him a big-eyed, pout.

"What's tha' look fer? Ah did nothin' wrong besides wantin' ta defend yer honor. Ye should be rakin' 'im across t' coals." He captured her mouth in a very seductive kiss.

When he let go, her cheeks burned and she couldn't hold back the smile. "You cheater."

"Aye, but havin' a stubborn lass gives me a right ta cheat ta cool yer temper from time ta time."

Damn, he was so sexy with that lilt adding to his broad shoulders, dark hair and blue eye.

A soft gasp.

Her eyes flew to movement behind him.

Mr. Henry stood in the kitchen doorway, his face sheet white. "You're him," he breathed.

Jason paled but gathered himself in the next heartbeat, falling into a perfect American accent. "Excuse us. She likes fake accents." His suave demeanor did well to hide the truth.

Mr. Henry shook his head, his eyes riveted on Jason. "The scars. The Scottish accent. The flawless military posture."

Her heart dropped to her feet in horror with Mr. Henry's next words.

"You're Andrew O'Malley."


	16. Chapter 16

Jason swallowed hard and didn't move, as if trying to figure out how to undo this. He wasn't exactly the one to win over Mr. Henry in this either.

Hurrying over, she set a hand on Mr. Henry's arm. "You can't tell anyone. There could still be terrorists out there looking for him - "

The reporter tore his eyes from Jason and set a hand over hers. "I won't. I...oh my god." His face matched Jason's paleness as his gaze wandered back to him. "You survived?"

"Okay, let's take this into a private room and sit - I'm not big enough to catch either of you in a faint." Grabbing Mr. Henry's sleeve, she tugged him to the cabin room at the back of the house and caught Jason's cold hand on the way past.

In the room, she locked the door and pushed them both into chairs. Mr. Henry's color had returned, but Jason's complexion still matched paper as he stared in shock. "Lie back, Jay. You don't look well." When she pressed him to recline back in the chair a bit, he didn't resist. His eye reflected a hundred different scenarios of this getting out to the press and apparently all of them not in happy endings as he stared like a deer in headlights at the reporter.

"Let me just say that I'm honored to meet one of our nation's bravest heroes. Your secret - "

Jason shot up and took a step toward the reporter, his face instantly flushed with anger. "If you breathe a word of this and anything happens to my wife, I will fucking rip you apart with my own hands!"

"Jason!" She stepped in front of him to hold him back.

But he was too upset to listen. "I know how to make it last for hours with a man still conscious! Whatever happens to her, happens to you!" he boomed in fury, thrusting a finger at the man.

"Jason!" Even every ounce of strength pushing against him didn't make him budge, so she caught his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. His nostrils flared with rage. "Stop it," she hissed between clenched teeth. He was so scared for her that he was in combat mode, and the only way to bring the soldier down was to command him. "Do not make threats. Keep yourself under control, or I will leave with him so we can have this conversation in private."

His hand locked around her wrist like he could keep her from leaving. "You are not going anywhere with him," he snarled.

That got his attention at least. He would maintain self-control if the alternative risked her leaving with the reporter. "Then back off. I need my husband here, not some testosterone-driven SEAL flying off the handle." She let go of his face and pulled her arm free.

"Excuse me if I'm in a panic that a reporter for a major newspaper has an incredibly juicy story that could lead to major issues for the military, witness protection and us!" He pointed a finger at the reporter, and she stepped between them again. "You have no idea the horrific things these terrorists have done! Trying to burn me alive was child's play for them!"

"Enough!" She looked at Mr. Henry, who looked a bit pale again, and then to Jason, who looked ready to pummel the man. "We figure out from here what to do. Calmly."

Jason snorted. "Bury him in the arboretum. I can stuff him in different spots." He said it in such a blaze manner that anyone who didn't know him would've gone as sheet white as Mr. Henry.

Rolling her eyes, she smacked his chest with the back of her hand. "Knock it off before he has you arrested." Then she turned to Mr. Henry. "He's kidding."

"Am I?" Jason maintained a very serious expression, apparently enjoying a little payback to Mr. Henry.

Ignoring him, she sat on the end of the couch beside Mr. Henry. "It - "

Jason's arms wrapped around and pulled her into his own lap. Jealousy still seemed to be there.

Giving Jason a look and smoothing out her shirt, she sat ramrod straight, probably not giving him the most comfortable lap mate. "If we're done behaving like children..." she threw Jason a glare, "then we can start discussing what to do about this."

Mr. Henry seemed composed. "I don't see that there is anything to discuss. It's a secret even on the government level. And it seems it would end my life to even bring it up." He cocked an eyebrow at Jason. "Despite what some parties think of me, I have some degree of honor and am not just about the story."

"Thank you, Mr. Henry. And I think that it's only fair in good faith to offer you a bit more of an exclusive interview - with myself."

"What?! Oh, I don't - " An elbow in the ribs silenced Jason.

"And you have exclusive interview rights to my husband for life. And he will not give 'no comment' responses."

"I don't think so!" Another elbow silenced him.

It took a great deal of effort to not react to a pinch to her bottom in retribution. "Is that agreeable, Mr. Henry?"

"That is very agreeable, Mrs. Port." Mr. Henry smiled in earnest. "I can see that you are treated well by your husband because I guarantee that no man would have stood up to him a minute ago. It seems he has met his match." Then he looked at Jason. "And I believe that between your display today and what you did during the gang attack that you have no limits as to what you'd do to protect her." He sat back and folded his arms over his chest, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. "I see I have my work cut out to paint this as a marriage of convenience."

* * *

Jason laid in bed that night and stared at the canopy. The soft golden glow of the firelight danced across him in the crisp Fall evening.

"I think we can trust him." She rolled over and draped a hand across his muscular chest. "He said he won't tell."

"A reporter with that kind of juice won't keep his mouth shut." He ran his hands over his face. "Shit. I wasn't even thinking that someone might hear."

"Even so, he can't easily prove it - all records of your former life have been destroyed by the government."

"You know what this is going to lead to? Blackmail for money or - "

"Jay, stop. Would you just give him a little slack? He's a good man."

"Who admitted to trying to flirt with you," he growled.

"To get under your skin, and it wasn't flirting. I think it'd be nice to be friends with him. He was very nice during the interviews - "

"For which you answered questions quite quickly."

With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and sent up a prayer for patience. "I'm naked in bed with you; why are you still jealous of him?"

"Because." He pulled her up to straddle his hips. "Remind me why I shouldn't be jealous." His fingers buried to hold a fistful of hair at the back of her head - just tight enough to portray he wanted to be dominant tonight. That beautiful blue eye held her gaze in the firelight.

A shy smile crept up. "I think you like being jealous because it gives you reason to be aggressive without worrying it'll frighten me."

The intensity of his gaze grew. "Does it frighten you?" His voice fell to a deep, low timbre vibrating through his chest under her hands.

She shook her head just a little and diverted her eyes as a blush formed.

He gripped her hips and claimed what was his, his eye rolling back in pleasure as she gasped at the delicious intrusion. His hands slowly eased her weight down as her body adjusted until he joined her completely. With a soft sigh, his hands remained locked on her hips but his eye opened like he simply wanted to be one and was satisfied. For the moment. "Let's try for a baby."

She blinked. "What? I thought we might adopt Henrietta."

"We can still adopt her. It'll take a few months of trying, so by the time you are pregnant, she'll be at least two-and-a-half years. We've been half-heartedly trying, only using condoms when you're most likely fertile."

"But she's so young and needs our attention with her health. And I have work. I'm barely keeping up as it is." But Henrietta and a baby would be wonderful.

His eye searched her face, seeming to cut look right into her soul like he hadn't in a few weeks. "Do you want to work? You don't seem like you enjoy it like you used to." Concern wrinkled his brow.

So he'd noticed. She looked away. "Working on terrorist and high-crime cases is a sought after honor."

"Only if you like it. Why haven't you talked to me that you're miserable? Have you told Olin?"

Drawing a deep breath, she shook her head. "It's become a more and more tech savvy job of using cameras and such to track crimes instead of tracking through finances. I liked the old cases of tracking through financial transactions and putting a puzzle together." She forced a shrug. "But that's rookie work."

"No, it's not. You handled some complicated corporate cases. There was passion as you poured over those papers scattered all over your office floor. You look bored and burned out with the terrorist cases. If you don't want to work at all, you don't have to."

She held his eye. In a strange way, being joined with his body made anything seem safe to say. "You wouldn't be disappointed if I took a demotion?"

Guilt saddened his eye as he cupped her face. "Oh, Em. You've been miserable because you thought I'd be disappointed? Never do something you don't like for my sake. I am not proud of you because of what you do but because you work damn hard to earn your way. If you cleaned up after dogs for a living, I'd be just as proud because I know you'd try to be the best damn pooper scooper in the world."

A laugh burst out, the relief so overwhelming.

The sound brought a gentle smile to his lips. "It's only six o'clock in D.C. Sometimes Olin works the weekends. Call and talk to him."

"Now?"

He lifted her off. "Now."

Pulling on her robe, she smiled and hurried downstairs to grab her cell for the call.

The man reclined against the pillows when she returned after the conversation. Closing the door, she bit her lip as he waited. "He says I'm wasting my time on corporate cases - "

"Because you're good and he wants your brain on terrorist cases. He can't make you stay on them. Give me the phone! I'll call him!" He held out his hand in outrage.

She glanced down at her hand where he looked. Apparently the urge to rush to him had made her forget to set down the phone. Walking over to the nightstand, she set it down and turned. "He's mad, but I start on Tuesday with Jack." Ever since the virus stunt with Charlotte's Hope months ago, Olin had prohibited any contact with her favorite coworker. Work would be even better again partnering with Jack on cases. It was like being a kid again with Jack - doing illegal hacks that the FBI sanctioned...usually...and getting into trouble for unconventionally cracking cases that no one else could. Olin tended to yell a lot when she worked with Jack, but they could fly through cases together that even the senior analysts couldn't figure out.

He blinked. "He gave it? And you're partners with Jack?"

Holding her hands to her mouth in excitement, she nodded. "It's going to be so much easier doing work around the children's schedules now. But, um..." How to break it to him about working a little more in this position to get health insurance for children and better insurance for him?

His smile faded. "What's wrong?"

Sitting on the bed, she fidgeted with a corner of the sheet. "I don't want you to be offended or feel like I don't think you provide enough. I was scheduled thirty hours a week salaried but worked fifty on the terrorist cases to keep up, and working disjointed blocks of time made it hard. In my old job, I could get thirty hours done in twenty-seven."

"I don't follow, Em." He set a hand on her knee.

"I know you get private medical insurance because they see you as high risk, so being on Charlotte's Hope employee plan would drive up employee premiums." She set a hand over his. "I think it's admirable that you stay off it to benefit the employees. Your insurance puts a lot of pre-authorization and other severe restrictions on you. I've been working at the FBI long enough that dependents and a spouse scan be covered under me if I work thirty-two hours or more. It's very good coverage, and you could keep your doctors even if some are out of network."

His hand pulled away and his gaze shifted to the fire. "My wife is not working in order to support me. If you want children on your insurance, fine."

"Jason, it's not like that. It's an unfair fact, but insurance discriminates you. It has nothing to do with you being able or unable to provide. You make so much money with investments and such that it's obscene. Of course you could buy the children any kind of medical care without insurance paying a penny toward it. You served this country for years and have medical issues because of your service. The government doesn't even let you claim veteran discounts at stores with your fake identity for god's sake, much less help you with medical care. Let me add you on."

A dark glare served as his answer.

"How much is your medical insurance a month? What if you donate the difference each month to a veterans charity?"

He bristled. "If you'd ever look at the ledgers, you'd know." Apparently the stubbornness and offense bubbled so strong that he didn't hear the charity part.

"I said I'll sit down and do bills with you, but I don't want to know the balance in our account." When he opened his mouth to protest, she added, "Yes, I'm neurotic that it'd make me stressed to see millions or billions in the account. Your premium is a twenty-five hundred a month? I think you alluded to it once." Remaining calm would keep him from blowing up too much. "What is the deductible?"

"You are not supporting me." The words rumbled in a growl from deep in his chest.

She frowned. "Jay, it's being sensible to get a better rate. The government covers so many employees that adding you on wouldn't drive up everyone's premiums. Besides your deductible and copays probably being astronomical, you have a lot of things that need preauthorizations. My insurance has very few. When the burns do cause trouble, you get sick very fast. I don't want your care needing to be delayed because you're waiting for permission to get help."

"I've never had to wait. It's paid out of pocket if there isn't time for authorizations," he ground out. "You are not working so I have insurance - "

"I know I don't have to. It would make me feel better if you had better insurance. What if something happened and we lost all of our money? You should be on it now before you need it." She set a hand on his leg.

"No! You're not responsible for me! This isn't up for discussion!" He got up and pulled on his robe as he stormed to the door.

"Why not?! You're so damn stubborn!" She slapped her hands down on the bed, the desire to wring his neck overwhelming.

He whirled around and exploded. "My father made my mother responsible for everything and she hated him for it! One more thing, and one more and one more he gave her! Until we were goddamn poor and starving! The veins in his neck protruded with the force of his shouts and his eye flashed in fury as he pointed at the ground. "She hated working! She wanted to be home to raise me, but he gave her no choice! I'm not making you work to support me!" His shouts rang down the halls and faded away.

Her heart stilled. He rarely spoke of his parents or childhood. In those few sentences said out of fear and anger, he revealed so much. The man raked in gobs of money because he was afraid of starvation again. He tried to be the sole provider for everything because he feared making her resent him. And having a marriage of partnership wasn't something he knew how to do but wanted.

Walking over, she set a hand on his chest over the robe and held his eye. Gentleness was the only way to sooth the frightened and hurt man who stood before her. And the boy inside who had been betrayed by his father. "You are not him, and you couldn't be if you tried - "

He shook his head and swallowed hard, taking a step back. "The apple never falls far from the tree. If you do this, then there will be something else you take on eventually and something else. Where is the line? I don't know how long my health will hold out before I'm just another burden like he was."

Stepping forward, she caught his face between her hands. "Jay, if something happened that was extremely physically debilitating, I know you'd help take care of me without resentment. It'd be the same if you ever need care. That's being partners, not a burden. Your health could be fine for years. At the very least, your father taught you what kind of husband and father not to be. You're so scared of being him that you don't even see how far the other way you are. You couldn't be him even if you tried. You're a good man and husband, and you're a wonderful father figure to these children."

But he didn't look convinced.

"Financially you can provide medical insurance for the family. I know that. It's stipulations beyond your control that my job's insurance can offer better prices and fewer preauthorization hurdles. I know I don't have to work so we have insurance. But you don't need to think that I'm the little woman either. I can pull some weight around here, Jay."

That blue eye widened a bit. "I never meant it like you're the little woman or - "

"No, I know. Just...let me do this, Jay. You give so much. Let me do this for my peace of mind, if not for you. Give what is saved financially to a veteran's charity. Then you're helping someone and obviously not being reliant on me if you have money to donate." Standing on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug.

He leaned down and hugged tight. "It's not anything against you or the fact that you're a woman. I'm messed up from my father."

"No, you're not. You just get a little overly protective and independent sometimes because you try so hard not to be him." She pulled back and offered a comforting smile. "Do you look more like your mother?" That simple fact might help pull him out of the doldrums.

With a roll of his eye, he heaved a sigh. "Very close to my father, actually."

Oh dear, that didn't go as planned. Forcing a big smile, she said, "Well see? You have his looks so then you got your mom's heart. You couldn't possibly act like him."

A deep laugh bubbled out of him and he hugged her tight. "Good save, Em."

So he'd seen through it, but at least he'd taken it in good humor.

"Do you want to see a picture? When my mother asked her in-laws for help after my father died, all she got was a wedding photo they said they didn't want."

She frowned as he let go and went to his dresser. A wedding photo they didn't want? Surely his grandparents hadn't returned their son's wedding photo.

He pulled out the top drawer and reached underneath, detaching a picture taped there - probably to hide it so people wouldn't find out his true identity. Then he brought it over by the firelight and handed it over. The man never wanted to talk about his parents, and it was unexpected that he wanted to show a photo of them.

Taking the crumpled picture, she blinked in surprise.

His father, although about nineteen years old, looked almost like his identical twin. He didn't look too happy in Sunday clothes, though. His mother wore a soft pink sundress that didn't hide her belly. She held a bouquet of wildflowers, likely from the field of flowers they stood in. She was beautiful with her raven black hair and porcelain skin and green eyes. Her radiating smile, however, is what made the picture so happy.

A lump formed. "And that's you." She touched the bump of his mother's belly.

"My mother didn't want me to come to the door when she went to my grandparents for help after my father died. So, I stayed back by the front bushes at the gate to their house." A bitter smile touched his lips as he stared at the picture. "It was a mansion, and I was so hungry and filthy that I almost hyperventilated at the prospect of going inside. Of having a meal so big that your stomach didn't hurt seemed so foreign and wonderful. And a bucket large enough to sit in to bathe - I had never been in a tub."

Tears welled and she looked up at his profile, his eye remaining locked on the photo as he grew lost to the memory.

"I didn't understand why Mother wanted me to stay back...until Agatha opened the door. She looked at my mother like she was some kind of leper even though she'd washed and put on her best work uniform that didn't have a single hole in it. She told my mother, 'Whores are not welcomed here.' I was a troubled twelve year old by then, but no one but me was allowed to disrespect my mother."

She cracked a smile. Even at a young age and as a troubled teen, honor had begun to grow in him.

"I ran up the walk to defend her - in what would've been very inappropriate words, mind you, because I had a hot head. But I stopped dead in my tracks when Agatha looked at me and snatched this photo from near her doorway. She crumpled it and threw it at me, so much anger ripping out of her as she yelled, 'Get out of here and take that bastard with you!'"

Tears welled in his eye. "It was the first time I'd ever heard mother beg - she begged for one meal for me because I'd fainted the day before from not eating for so long. Agatha said we deserved to die for killing her son and slammed the door. It wasn't the rejection or lost meal or warm bath that made me cry - it was my mother having been humiliated and in front of the only person in the world who loved her anymore. She picked up the picture and walked toward me. I didn't know what to do, so I tore the corner of my shirt off and gave it to her as a handkerchief. It was the start of her daily crying and the start of me carrying some type material for a handkerchief at the ready. We went home and sold everything but that chair. A week later, she'd worked enough straight shifts to buy our passage to America." He eased the photo from her hands and stuck it under the drawer. Then he climbed in bed. "Come, Em. It's nearly midnight."

She got in and curled up to rest her head on his shoulder. Such a terrible story. It made the fact that he always had a handkerchief to offer that much more precious. "Is that why you wear suits even at home?"

His arm wrapped around. "I think it's an obsession with feeling cleaner in them after having spent so many years in filth and rags. I relished doing laundry in the Army - of always having clean clothes without holes. Charles introduced me to a suit the first time he took me to his house. It was a suit he loaned me for meeting his parents because they wouldn't have welcomed a lowlife like me into their home. The scent of the starched collar and the crispness of the suit were heaven. It was the first time I felt truly clean in civilian clothes." A smile leaked into his voice. "Hence the obsession with white dress shirts and not any other color."

"I like that you're so clean-cut, but I like the days too when you wear regular clothes." Giving him a squeeze for a hug, she smiled, "You're a good man, Jay."

He sighed and whispered, "I hope so."

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, she stroked his chest. Memories tonight had made him ache. It wasn't the time to finish the baby conversation. But tonight had made the love grow a little stronger for this wonderful man.

* * *

She woke up before Mr. Early Bird the next morning and slipped downstairs with Henrietta and one of the girls who lagged behind in the bedrooms. Sunday morning had been Jason's shift at home. Time to find out the routine and if the children went to church.

Laughter and clanking dishes filled the kitchen. The smells of crackling bacon and fresh pancakes wafted through the air. She stepped into the kitchen and smiled. The children wore nice Sunday clothes and sat around the table eating as Trudy and Pete dished out plates of food. These two seemed to love having the children around as much as she and Jason did. "Good morning."

Scattered greetings and smiles replied. Lydia ran over and greeted with a hug. "Are you coming to church with us?"

"I suppose." She glanced at Trudy.

"I take the Catholic children and Pete takes the two Lutheran boys to their church, don'tcha know. Breakfast is ready."

"I'll go get Jason." She handed over Henrietta to one of the older girls who held out her arms to take the baby.

Henrietta fussed and reached for her to come back.

"Alright, love. Come help me wake him up." She carried Henrietta on her hip and entered the dark bedroom. Easing her weight onto the side of his bed, she set a hand on the silhouette of his arm. He never slept this late. "Jay? Do you want to come down for breakfast?"

"Go ahead." He spoke so soft. "I have a migraine that won't let up."

"Do you want some cold rags or medicine?" Her grip on Henrietta tightened as the girl squirmed to get to him. "No, pumpkin, he doesn't feel well."

"Would you get a rag? My stomach rolls if I get up." He sounded miserable.

"Sure. Then I'll rub your palms to see if that helps." When she stood with Henrietta, the girl screamed in protest.

The faint outline of Jason moved like he pressed a hand to his forehead.

She pressed a hand over Henrietta's mouth so Jason's head wouldn't explode. "Shhh, love."

"Just leave her." He held out a hand.

The moment she set Henrietta on the bed beside him, the girl laughed and babbled as she crawled on his chest.

"Shhh," he breathed.

She knelt to be eye level with the girl. "He has owie. Shhh," she whispered.

Henrietta sprawled on his bare chest and gave a sloppy kiss before resting her head down like she understood to be quiet.

When she returned with a rag from downstairs, Henrietta slept on his bare chest while his hand rested on her back. Laying the rag over his forehead, mindful of the delicate scar tissue, she took his free hand and massaged the pressure points. "I told Trudy and Pete to go ahead and take the children to church." She kept her voice low so as not to disturb his headache.

His eye remained closed but he whispered, "Thank you. You don't have to stay."

"I want to. I'll go to Mass with you tomorrow."

The poor man didn't seem to find relief after several minutes, so she scooted closer to the head of the bed and massaged the curve of his neck to shoulders. His long, low groan of relief made her smile. "Lay her down and roll over so I can rub your neck - maybe it's a muscle migraine." He'd only let her massage him a couple times before. Hopefully he wouldn't be stubborn about doing it again.

He eased the baby onto the bed beside him and rolled into his stomach, but his forehead propped on the back of his hands. His head tilted to the left a bit like the damaged muscles pulled tight.

Beginning the massage at his neck, she frowned. The normally delicate tissue had a firmness to it from locked up muscles. Her fingers glided up into his scalp to sweep the stiffness away so a massage wouldn't hurt so much.

"I didn't do stretches for two days."

She blinked in surprise that he offered up that information. "Did you just forget?" A gentle tone so as not to sound blaming would keep him open to sharing.

"I forgot one day. Yesterday I just wanted to pretend for one day that I was normal."

Her heart broke. "Because of Lydia's questions?"

The silence was his response. Releasing a deep breath, she took time working a knot out from a fragile, damaged neck muscle. "No one is normal, Jay. Normal is what you say it is. I wish you'd let me help a bit more with your daily things - going off on your own and doing them isn't conducive to feeling 'normal.' We should just make them part of our daily routine. You don't even let me see you brush your teeth."

He snorted. "Because it's unsightly and my wife doesn't need to be reminded of being married to a disabled - "

"Idiot who makes problems that aren't there?" she finished and kissed his sound cheek to take away the sting of the words. "Is it just you or your Scottish blood that makes you so incredibly stubborn? If it's the latter, I'm not so sure I'm ready for a bunch of your children. You'll all be running around with your hot heads and I'll just be throwing my hands up as Trudy chases the children around the living room."

A muffled chuckle. "It's an only child thing because you're just as stubborn."

Most of the stiffness eased from his neck, so her fingers massaged his wonderfully broad shoulders. "Then perhaps I have a chance of not going insane. Are you going to teach the children Gaelic?"

"Gaelic?"

"I figure maybe then they'll pick up some of your accent."

That earned a belly laugh from him. "You're hopeless, Em." He rolled onto his back with a smile. "Thank you, it feels much better."

A glance at Henrietta revealed the girl still asleep, so she scooped her up with a blanket and made a bed on the floor. With hot cheeks, she stood and tugged his hand. "You know what they say is good for headaches."

He eased onto his feet with a slight smile. "What's that?"

Backing up toward her bedroom, she grinned and pulled off her shirt.

His eye lit up. "Do they now?" He caught her waistband and unbuttoned her jeans.

"And they say missionary is a good way to get pregnant." Splaying her hands on his beautiful chest, she looked at him from beneath her lashes.

Silence. A soft smile touched his lips. "Are you certain? We can wait until Henrietta's a little older. The lawyer said it should be a smooth adoption, but we'll still have our hands full for a bit..."

Biting her lip, she searched his concerned face. "I don't want to hardcore try yet with charting and all of that. I just want us to make love when we want, and if a baby happens then it happens."

The gentle caress of his hand on her cheek seemed like he already knew what she didn't say. "A miscarriage will seem less like fertility issues if we aren't full-out trying?"

Dropping her gaze, she nodded and stared at his chest. "A miscarriage is hard enough without knowing that it just can't be."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It'll be hard if we can't, but we will still have children, sweetheart. We start with Henrietta."

She nodded and rose onto her toes to kiss him. He always understood even when she couldn't form the words.

* * *

"Ah na na da naaaaaaahhhhh!" Henrietta's scream of frustration at being abandoned came from the other room.

She patted his hip. "Hurry, she woke up."

"I can't just hurry," he panted and rose onto his hands.

"Hold on, honey!" The girl would walk through the connecting doorway at any moment. "Jay, come on. She'll see us naked."

His eyebrow shot up. "Come on?"

"I can't get pregnant if you don't even finish," she whispered and glanced at the doorway.

"Oh, no pressure." He climbed off.

"What are you doing? You were almost - "

He pulled on his pants, his need still painfully evident. "We aren't making a baby with a 'hurry' and toddler threatening to come in. Despite what a stud you apparently think I am, I can't just do it," he flung out a hand, "on command."

Henrietta crawled into the room with a scowl and babbled, as if scolding them for leaving her to sleep alone. Then the darling spotted Jason shirtless, pushed herself to plop back on her bottom, and tugged her dress over her head. A squeal of glee followed. And a grunt.

Jason darted forward and scooped her up, rushing for the bathroom. "Good girl! Are you going potty?"

As she tugged on her clothes and entered the bathroom, she stopped in her tracks. Jason held the girl over the toilet, clearly having been too late. "Uh, did she get anything in the toilet?"

"No, but we almost did it, didn't we, love?" he cooed in a baby voice. "Can you say, 'potty'? Did you almost do a potty in the toilet like a big girl?"

She stepped over the puddle on the floor and wiped Henrietta as Jason held her over the toilet.

Henrietta slapped her little hands over her eyes in shyness and grinned. "Odd-ee. Odd-ee. Odd-ee."

"Ha ha! Yes! Good girl! You're saying you're first word!" He grinned. "Em, did you hear? You can speak just fine, poppet. Yes, you can! Say, 'potty' again," he coaxed in excitement.

The girl's face scrunched up in protest as she dropped her hands. "Odd-ee." She reached out to Jason.

Her heart stilled and she knelt next to Jason. "Daddy? Are you saying, 'daddy'?"

She grinned and reached out both hands to Jason. "Odd-ee!"

The smile slipped from his face and he stared at Henrietta. Then he swallowed hard, as if not quite believing it.

"Is this Daddy?" She set a hand on his back and smiled as tears blurred Henrietta.

"Odd-ee!" Then a shriek of delight echoed in the bathroom.

He crushed Henrietta in a hug as tears shimmered in his eye. Henrietta wrapped her little arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest in contentment.

The little girl lifted her head and touched his scarred cheek.

Fear and tension shot through his face. He'd been in such a hurry to get out of bed that he'd forgotten the mask.

"Odd-ee." She planted a sloppy kiss on his scarred lips and squealed in glee, seeming to not think a thing of his face. Then her little head rested on his chest again in the protection of his arms.

There'd been a time when he hadn't imagined a woman could ever love him, much less children not scream in terror from him. She held a hand over her heart as the girl simply accepted and loved him without any hesitation.

"I love you. I'll be your daddy, poppet," he whispered in a thick voice. "And she'll be your mama." He met her eyes over Henrietta's head when emotion robbed his voice. A single tear slid down his cheek.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Ahh! Thanks for all the reviews on the last couple chapters! :)**

* * *

Her hands shook going up the courthouse steps on Jason's arm.

"It's alright, Em. Do you want to do this?" He didn't tremble or seem the least bit nervous, ever the rock of security.

"Yes, but you're so much better with the children than I am. I don't know how to be a mom." The panic was suffocating.

That blue eye met hers. "I'd say you handled it quiet well when Lydia had her first menses yesterday. I was about ready to rip out my hair with her orneriness until you figured out what was wrong. I'm sure it was hard on her not having her mother there for something that big in a girl's life, but she seemed so much more relaxed and happy when she came out of the bathroom with you." He held Henrietta in one arm and opened the door for her with the other.

"That was a crash course. If the girl had known better, she'd have realized I flunked parenting in there," she grumbled.

"Ah, you don't give yourself enough credit. Have a little more confidence - children pick up on when an adult doesn't know what she's doing. You're compassionate and have a good head on your shoulders - that'll all it takes to make a good mother. When in doubt, call Nana because she's lived through it all. I do."

She stopped in her tracks and gaped at him. "Wait, you call Nana when you don't know what to do with the children?!"

He just grinned and tugged her along.

She sat across the table from the judge and an attorney the court had designated to serve in Henrietta's best interests. Jason sat on her right and their attorney on her left. It passed in a blur, with a lot of document signing.

Stepping out of the room awhile later, she looked up at Jason, who looked just as drained.

"Oh my. We just did a very big thing, Em." He looked down at the birth certificate in his hand that now had their names as the parents. "Well, Henrietta Adelaide Port, how do you like your new name?" He lifted the girl up.

The child fussed to get down and try out her new walking skills that she'd conquered in the past weeks. He set her down and bent over to hold Henrietta's hands as she took wobbly steps.

"I don't know why you insisted we give her my middle name." She scrunched her nose.

"Because it's a pretty name and as the first daughter, she should have part of your name. It's been passed down for generations and it's tradiation and heritage that she'll like one day." Probably more like he had so little for heirlooms and known heritage that he wanted his children to have it.

Plopping onto a bench in the hallway, she stared at the wall. "We have a daughter now."

Henrietta bounced on her legs and fussed, jamming a fist at her mouth in an attempt to do the sign language gesture for 'hungry' that they'd been practicing.

"Yes, we do. And she's demanding lunch, Mama. Let's go home." He smiled and offered his arm, not seeming the least bit daunted by this new responsibility for another human being.

* * *

When he opened the front door at home, a shout of 'Surprise!' made her jump.

Mom, Nana and five of the foster children who hadn't returned to their families yet stood in the foyer with Trudy and Pete.

"Let me see my great-grandbaby." Nana hobbled forward on Mom's arm as Jason handed the baby over.

"Go show your mother and Nana," he smiled and nudged her forward.

Holding Henrietta facing out to them, she pasted on a smile, her knees still knocking. "This is Henrietta Adelaide."

"Ohhh, she's so perfect." Mom slipped the girl into her own arms and held her down for Nana to see.

"What a pretty girl you are, just like Mama. The children tell me that you have your dad's temper." Nana winked at Jason, who smiled in good humor. "I'm Nana. Can you say, 'Nana'? I bet you're a talker. You'll be a smart girl like your parents."

She glanced at Jason. Henrietta's health issues hadn't come up during the call announcing the adoption to Nana and Mom last week.

He stepped closer and set a hand on her back. It would be the first of many times of explaining her injury to people. "She can't say very much - "

"That's alright. Your granddaddy was a late talker too," Mom cooed at the baby, who just stuck her fist in her mouth and studied these new people.

"Well, we received control of her medical records today, and she was put in foster care because of abuse." Jason broached the topic with gentle professionalism.

Nana scowled and she slid a finger into Henrietta's fist. "Now you have a good mom and dad who won't make you scared. Are you going to talk for us, lovey? Maybe she wants to get down and walk, Becky. I think we're scaring her."

Mom set her down. Protectiveness surged. She scooped up Henrietta and held her tight, looking up at Jason and swallowing hard. They didn't understand. For the first time, it really hit home what Jason must feel like being on the receiving end of being different.

"She has a brain injury." He blurted it out. It was out there now.

Mom and Nana stared at them in shock. "What?"

"There's nothing wrong with her. She starts seeing physical and speech therapists tomorrow." Of course Nana and Mom wouldn't judge, but this instinct to push away anyone who might even glance at her sideways for a moment reared up. Tears welled. It shouldn't be this hard to tell anybody, much less family.

He set a hand on her back. "Emma, it's alright. They're not judging." Then he wrapped an arm around and looked at Mom and Nana. "They don't know if her mother hit her or if it was a fall, but there's brain damage in the part that controls speech. She's unable so far to say full words and mostly babbles. She was neglected by her mother and in the foster home, so she was malnourished and didn't have physical activity to strengthen her leg muscles. We hope that she has improvement with therapy. The full extent of the brain damage won't be known until she starts school. The specialists believe the trauma is only limited to speech." He explained it so well and calm.

Henrietta signed again for food.

"We're teaching her sign language so she doesn't become so frustrated not being able to communicate," he explained. "That means she's hungry."

"Ohhh, poor baby. You've had a big day. Come here, let's go get you something to eat." Mom took Henrietta and held her in the air, giving her a little shake and drawing out a smile. "Is it lunch time? Yes, it is!"

Henrietta gurgled and squealed, kicking her little legs out that had a little more baby chub than a few weeks ago.

"Set the girl down, Becky. She won't learn to walk with you carrying her. Come, lovey, race Great-Nana to the food!"

Mom set Henrietta down and held her hands, aiding in Henrietta taking steps faster than Nana. The girl stopped after a few feet and bounced up and down with her thighs. Then a shriek of delight ripped out so strong that it made her face turn red and her body shake. Then she waddled forward with Mom into the kitchen. Just like that, Nana and Mom accepted Henrietta's disabilities.

Jason laughed. "Apparently she likes to race." He kissed her hair. "Everyone will love her. Those who don't, then good riddance to them."

She let him pull her into the kitchen. "Hm. I should say you need to follow your own advice, Dr. Port."

"Sassy lass." He scooped her up and deposited her in a chair next to Nana and then went to help Mom get Henrietta in her high chair.

With hot cheeks, she gave him a scolding look.

The brazen man offered a rakish smile.

Nana leaned over and whispered, "I want to be the first one called after your mother."

She frowned and looked at Nana. "About what?"

"When you take the pregnancy test." Nana sat back, as if they'd just been discussing the weather.

Her eyebrows rose. "Nana, this isn't appropriate conversation at the table. And we just adopted her today."

"He looks at you like he'd rather be elsewhere than the kitchen. I didn't live to be this old to not be able to read a man, Emmie. He has baby fever as much as you."

"I don't have baby fever," she scoffed.

Nana simply smiled. "You have that glow, Emmie." Then Nana sat back when Jason sat beside her to say Grace.

She stared at Nana through the prayer. Had Nana just said she looked pregnant? It couldn't be - I'd only been a couple times and not even at the right time of month.

"Em, are you alright? You're so quiet." Jason leaned over during lunch for a private conversation.

Menses had seemed a little lighter than usual this past week. Or maybe not. Maybe testing would be a good idea. But tell Jason first? No, maybe wait for it to be positive so he didn't get excited for nothing. Or maybe wait to tell him until after eight weeks when the risk of miscarriage dropped. But he'd be hurt if he found out she hadn't told him about a miscarriage. Plus, he had a right to know. Maybe wait to test until after four more weeks. But would that mean the baby was eight weeks, or maybe there wasn't a baby yet but would be in a few more week and it'd be four weeks old.

"Do you need these, sweetheart?" His voice cut into the train of thought.

She looked down at his hand that held out pills. "What? Why?" They looked like prenatal vitamins. Her eyes flew to him.

He frowned. "Sometimes you get quiet when you hurt. I wasn't sure if you still have cramps."

Pain medicine. "Oh, no, I'm alright. Thanks." She stared at his shirt. If there was a baby, would the ibuprofen taken a few days ago hurt the baby?

"Excuse us for a moment." He took her hand and pulled her out of the room.

In his office, he closed the door. "Alright, what's going on? You look quite upset." His arms folded over his chest like he prepared for her to be stubborn about answering.

Biting her lip, she must look like a deer in headlights. Tell him. Or maybe not. It could be a false alarm.

"Em, we're best friends. You can talk to me." He set his hands on her upper arms. "Are you panicking about adopting Henrietta? I know it's a big step, but we're used to having her around and know a lot of her behaviors already..."

"Nana thinks I'm pregnant." Oops. Not the best way to lead into that.

He looked at her for several moments without saying anything. The man must be in shock. "Sweetheart...you know she likes to plant the idea of babies in our heads. Did you tell her that you just had your time?"

"But maybe it was a little light. Women get their periods during pregnancy sometimes. Do you think I should test?" She pulled at her shirt. "It's so hot in here." Pregnancy hot flashes or panic attack?

Leading her over to a chair, he sat her down and knelt at her feet. "I think Nana has you a little upset. It might be better to test to put your mind at ease. I don't have any more tests here, but we can pick some up this afternoon. I'm doubtful that you're pregnant because you did seem to have strong cramps."

* * *

Who knew there could be so many tests? A pregnancy test should be a pregnancy test. Some tested days before a missed period, others at least a week before. Some had digital results while others had the traditional one or two lines...

"What about this one? There are three tests in the box." She picked up the box.

He eased it out of her hands and set it back on the shelf. "That brand has a lot of false results." Then he reached up on the top shelf that sat at eye level. "This is a reliable brand. You'd be late, so no sense in buying the early results." The man scanned some of the other types and rattled off information, gradually ruling them out. Between the options and his wealth of information, her head spun.

"There are rare instances where the digital screen doesn't work at all, so results are unknown. I say we get the old-school line readings. Is that alright?" He switched boxes and looked at her.

She shrugged in complete bafflement. "You're the doctor."

The man chuckled and pulled her down the aisle, snatching up a box of feminine products along the way. He must've noticed her burning cheeks because he smiled. "Female functions stopped fazing me in med school, sweetheart. I noticed the box in the recycling bin that you're out." Then he stopped in front of the contraceptives.

Dear god, the floor should open up at any moment as an escape from this embarrassment.

"Should we get some just in case? You seem like the baby and Henrietta combination right now has you a little freaked out."

"Oh my god, I don't know! Just grab one so we can get out of here!" She snatched a box.

He caught her hand and put the box back. "Best not to get latex and have us develop allergies there. That would not be pleasant."

Her face flamed. "Just grab one!" She looked around. It would not be good to run into someone from town in this aisle.

The beauty of having a doctor for a husband came out while waiting in line at the small pharmacy. "We are prepared for anything, my dear. Condoms, feminine products and pregnancy tests. We are set for the next year."

"Would you hush?" she whispered and glanced around.

A chuckle served as his reply. "I don't believe I've ever seen you this flustered." His eye twinkled. "I have some medical jokes if you want entertainment while we wait."

"No! You're being so chivalrous." She threw him a look.

He frowned. "I picked the lane with the lady cashier, and I'm blocking our purchases from view. You're a little moody, Em. Perhaps you are pregnant."

"Oh my god, no way!"

The blood drained from her face at the sound of Andy's voice. No. She couldn't be out here in Colorado. In their small town. At the same tiny pharmacy. At the very same minute. Fate wasn't that cruel.

Jason's eye bugged and he didn't turn around, as if he could make Andy go away by not acknowledging the woman.

"You're pregnant?! I came down for the adoption party! I didn't know you're announcing a baby too!" Andy shoved through the line and crushed her in a hug.

"Hi, Andy. No, I'm not pregnant." She took a step back when Andy let go.

The woman poked her head in where Jason held the items close to his chest and tried to turn away. "Ohhh, you sly dog." Andy whacked him on the back with a smile. "But you really should be more careful - you're a doctor, you know."

His mouth dropped open. "And why are you here?"

Andy grinned, the rudeness going right over her head. "Nana mentioned you guys adopted, so I thought I'd come out for the party too. My plane was late, so I missed it. I thought I'd bring a present for the new mom and dad." She held up a bottle of pharmacy wine and then frowned. "Maybe I should return it if you can't drink now. Where's the little munchkin? Did ya leave her with your mom already? It's not all it's cracked up to be, huh? It's like, I love my kids to death, but sometimes I just gotta leave them with the hubby for a weekend, you know? Your boobs get all saggy and you get these permanent love handles after having babies. No one tells you about that. Or the hemorrhoids during pregnancy - "

"Andy," he snapped and gave her a look. "Not every woman has that. You don't need to share those stories before she's had a baby." He set the items down on the counter for the cashier.

"You're not going to get fat - you're thin as a twig, Emma."

"She's perfect," Jason cut in with an irritated look.

Andy seemed to get the hint. "So how'd you and Hottie Doctor find your little one so fast? I've heard adoption takes months or years."

"Don't answer that," Jason mumbled as he pulled out his wallet to pay.

"Oh, you're so funny." Andy swatted his arm. Then she touched his bicep. "You really gotta show my husband how to get muscles like that."

He gave Andy a dry look. Then her. Then back to Andy. "This has got to be a nightmare." Rolling his eye, he pulled his arm away and handed the cashier the money.

She bit back a smile. Sometimes him and Andy together could be a bit comical. "We were her foster parents, so that speeds up the adoption process."

"Oh my godddd! That's so sweet!" The woman held her hands to her chest, crushing the odds and ends in her hands. "Is she cute? I bet she's cute."

An earnest smile bloomed. "Of course she's cute." Even Jason's posture relaxed as she described Henrietta.

"I bet she's a talker and getting into so much trouble running around the house. You baby proofed the house, right?"

"Yeah..." She glanced at Jason. This wasn't the best location to talk about Henrietta's health problems.

He scooped up the items. "We'll see you at the house." His arm wrapped around and he herded her toward the door before Andy could respond.

Outside the doors in the cool autumn air, she looked up at him. "Maybe it's best to tell her before we get home."

"Or maybe it's best to do it in front of your mother and Nana so we can all jump down her throat. You know she's going to make some inappropriate comment and it'll upset us." He shook his head. "I know you and her were tight as children and she's family and all, but...Em, sometimes she's not the one to have around."

She cracked a smile. "Jay, do not judge a book by the first few pages. Did I ever tell you what Andy got her college degree in?"

"Drinking?" His patience for the conversation drained fast.

"Childhood education for disabled children. She did it for a few years before the kids but then the money wasn't enough to support a family. Andy has her faults, but she has her good points too."

His eyebrow shot up in surprise as she turned and waited for Andy to come out.

"Oh my god! I'll punch her! Did you punch her?!" Andy's fierce glare shot to Jason. "How could she hurt her own baby?! I hope the mom goes to jail!"

"Andy." She set a hand on Andy's arm to calm the woman down. "It might not be as bad as we think. She seems to pick up on sign language fast and her mobile skills are improving."

Andy seemed lost in thought and didn't offer any comments, unlike her usual self.

"Would you like a ride to the house?" Jason's offer seemed to surprise Andy too.

In the car, Andy sat in the front seat with Pete while she sat in the back with Jason. Andy fired off loads of questions about Henrietta's behavior.

"You aren't convinced it's aphasia," Jason finally said.

Andy shook her head. "I have very little experience with it, but what you're explaining sounds like dysarthria. The speech pathologist will be able to give an accurate diagnosis."

"Dysarthria?" She frowned. In all the research done at the hospital about aphasia, she hadn't paid much attention to the dysarthria information.

Jason nodded and raised an eyebrow, as if impressed. "I suppose. Dysarthria is a brain injury that causes weakness of the tongue, lips, vocal chords and sometimes diaphragm. Symptoms can be speech so rapid that it's indecipherable and abnormal pitch and rhythm. She very well could be saying words, but they're in a rapid, odd rhythm to us so it seems like babbling. It explains her loud outbursts too. It's vera similar to what happens with stroke victims - how they have that cotton-mouth sounding speech."

"But it can get better, right? Probably not as clear as our speech but better?"

His hand slipped into hers. "If that's what it is, her speech is very mildly affected for dysarthria. She may have to always make a conscious effort when speaking, but she has the potential to have quite good speech. But that's if this is the issue."

* * *

She held his hand tight that evening while waiting for the cell phone timer to announce the pregnancy test being done. "Do you think Andy's right that it's dysarthria?"

He nodded from his seat on the bed to her right. "I think it's a strong possibility. When she eats, you can feel her jaw not moving quite how it should. She'll be alright, sweetheart. We'll get the best therapists, who are just as important as having the best doctors."

"I don't understand how the neurologist missed this."

"He wasn't a neurophysiologist who studies the relationship between the brain and behavior. He was a neurologist looking at the damage in the brain itself. She's going to be alright. She's very intelligent." He rubbed her back. "Are you worried about the pregnancy test?"

Henrietta's therapist appointments put things in perspective. She shook her head. "I was freaking out earlier, but we can handle if there's a baby too. You're probably right that there isn't a baby, though. You?"

"I would be happy if there was a baby, but one will come when the time is right." The phone beeped the end of the timer. He silenced it and then looked at her. "Do you want to look?"

Biting her lip, she shook her head. "I need a minute. I should be excited, but...it's just a lot to take in adopting and maybe a baby in one day."

He turned on the edge of the bed and took her hands. "Love, I honestly don't think there's a baby. This is more for your peace of mind after Nana's comment. You don't have any symptoms of pregnancy."

Holding his hand tight, she stood for him to come with. Maybe Nana was right. A tiny glimmer of hope swam up.

In the bathroom, she looked at the test on the counter. One line - no baby. Sudden disappointment slammed head-on.

"Nothing to worry about right now, love." His arm wrapped around and a smile filled his voice. "Nana was just planting a seed in your head because she wants lots of great-grandbabies."

Her stomach dropped to her toes and tears blurred everything.

"Em? What's wrong? I thought you wanted it to be negative." He pulled her into his arms.

"I did too...until I saw it." Burying her face against his chest, she swallowed hard.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm disappointed too, but we knew it would take a few tries. This just means we have time to focus on Henrietta and get to keep trying for a baby. That's all. It'll happen. Maybe we're rushing it with adopting Henrietta in the mix too." He kissed away the tears and then brushed a kiss over her lips. "Don't cry, love," he whispered against her lips. "Don't cry."

His love served as a wonderful balm on her aching heart. The tears subsided and his fingers caught under her chin to tilt her face toward him. His eye held so much love and strength. Burying her fingers in his hair, she peeled away his mask and set it on the counter. He backed up when she kissed him with pressure to back him up to her bed. "Just us, Jay," she whispered.

Without question, he helped her shed their clothes and peeled off the lip bandage. Then he laid back on the bed, needing gravity to help control his lip. He looked up with such gentle, patient love, as if willing to do anything to ease her heartache.

Slow lovemaking didn't satisfy the need to be close to him, and he must've sensed it because even in the shower he was affectionate and offered generous kisses sprinkled on her body. No words needed to be spoken.

When she dried off, he slipped out to his room. As she stood in a towel brushing her wet hair before the mirror, movement in the doorway caught her eye.

He still had the towel wrapped around his waist, but held out a tube of something and held a handkerchief to his mouth that still didn't wear the bandage.

Frowning, she looked from the tube to him in confusion.

"In the Ph-all and winter, I have to ph-ut on moisturizer or the tissue ulcers."

Her hands lowered from brushing her hair and her heart beat faster. He offered for her to put it on. The gesture of trust made her knees grow weak. She took the tube. "Just use a tissue?"

"If you'd like." He swallowed and dabbed at his mouth, but he didn't run. "I just use my hand."

The most intimate he'd ever let her been was touching his cheek or using a tissue to put hydrocortisone on the scars. Never before had he allowed her bare hand to touch all of the scars. "Does it hurt you if I touch more than your cheek?" She set down the brush and turned to him.

He remained still and subdued, as if a little nervous but willing to take the jump. "It'll be uncomfortable no matter what touches it. You don't have to."

"No, I want to if you'll let me." Her cheeks burned in embarrassment and her gaze dropped to his chest in shyness. "Stupid question."

"You could never say anything stuph-id."

The husky rumble of his voice created butterflies. "Um, does it cause a problem if some of the cream is caught in the scars? I mean, I know you can't have long-term exposure to water, but I don't know if this would cause tissue breakdown either." She glanced up.

A soft smile twinkled in his eye. "That's not a stuph-id question. Yes, it would cause irritation. You're too worried about doing harm." He took her hand and pressed her two fingers over deep scarring at his temple. The skin almost smoothed under the pads of her fingers from the pressure. His eye squinted the slightest bit.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise at that unexpected discovery and then her eye narrowed on the discomfort reflecting in his eye. "It hurts you."

"Firmer pressure is less likely to cause muscle spasms than a light touch. Too light and the nerves don't know what to do with the stimulation."

"I should've had a firmer touch this whole time?" Her brow furrowed.

His neck flushed in embarrassment. "I was aph-raid of reph-ulsing you."

She burst out laughing. "And here I was always afraid of touching you too hard." Her hand cupped his face with normal pressure. His face seemed more delicate with every outline of damaged or missing tissue and bone prevalent. "Like this?"

He gave a slight nod and smiled.

"Your neck too?"

Taking her two fingers, he used a little bit lighter pressure. Tendons and structures that shouldn't be tangible just touching a neck took shape under her hand. Jerking her hand back a few inches, her heart raced and eyes flew to him. He shouldn't be alive like that, much less able to move his head.

"That's the hardest ph-ressure my neck can tolerate. Soph-ter is better." His eye searched her face, as if seeking signs of revulsion.

"You shouldn't have lived." The words squeezed out of her throat and tears burned.

He took a step closer and pressed a kiss to her hair as he cocooned her in his strong arms. "But I did because I was meant to be yours."

She held so tight, needing to feel his solidness. "I love you."

"I lo-ph you too. So much, my Emma." He drew a shaky breath and took her hand. "You make me a watering ph-ot. Come, love."

The man sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her closer before he pressed the moisturizer into her hand. "Just us," he whispered, for the first time repeating her cherished words. With one last wipe to his mouth, he set aside the handkerchief on the nightstand. His hands wrapped around her hips as he admired her body. "You're so beautiph-ul. Let me touch while you do it?" He looked up, as if needing reassurance that he wouldn't repulse her.

"Of course you can touch me." Bowing her head, she brushed a kiss over his lips. The pad of her thumb brushed away where his lip started to give him trouble again. "Tell me if I should stop." Squeezing a small amount of cream in her palm, she dabbed her first two fingers in and started at his familiar cheek.

His eye squinted a bit from discomfort, but his gaze remained focused on where he opened her towel and stroked her flat belly and the curve of her hips. He picked up the handkerchief and dabbed at the corner of his mouth for a moment before resuming the caresses. "You're so smooth and soph-t, practically like silk."

She smiled. "I don't know if you sound drunk or smitten."

"Deph-inately the latter." His tongue flicked over her breast as she spread cream at his temple. "You're a good distraction ph-rom the pain." He sounded ready to purr.

Pain. Maybe it felt a little like the flesh searing away again. Or maybe like when he'd been skinned alive by the doctors for the transplants. The blood and gore and agony. Her fingers grazed the results of that poor medical treatment - more like experiment or torture. The room dipped.

"Let me kiss you."

So it would hurt less with the distraction? The talk of pain, the need for distraction...his voice grew tinny. "Jason, don't."

His eye flicked up, filled with surprise. He immediately pulled away his hands.

Without his support, she collapsed onto his chest as everything faded black for a split moment.

In one swift motion, he laid her on the bed and darted back into the shadows.

She held out a hand. He misunderstood the cause of the faintness. "No, I started thinking about how it hurts and everything the doctors did..." Releasing a shaky breath, she swallowed hard. "I don't want to make you hurt."

"Oh my goodness, Em," he cooed, his heartstrings obviously pulled. He came into the light and knelt beside the bed. "I thought it made you sick to touch. It's uncomph-ortable, nothing more. I shouldn't have said, 'pain.'"

"You said being skinned for grafting was uncomfortable." She pushed up to sit as he kept a strong arm around for support.

He sighed and set a finger against her forehead. Then he pressed hard and dragged his finger across for an instant before releasing. "Like that, not writhing in pain. It causes a little bit of a headache, that's all."

Rubbing her forehead, she frowned and shook her head. "That kinda hurts. I don't want to make you hurt."

"You don't have to do it, but someone has to put on the moisturizer. The alternative is ulcers forming. How about you brush your teeth while I finish?" He took her hand to help her stand.

The room didn't move as she stood and her knees firmed up. "I feel better. I think I just need to sit while we do it."

Patience and understanding softened his face. "I appreciate you wanting to help, but I ph-refer you don't ph-aint."

She frowned and climbed in his lap to straddle his hips. "I won't faint." Picking up the lotion, she squirted some in her hand and resumed working.

His hands locked around her back and a smile tugged at his lips. "I would say you're terribly stubborn, but it's very sweet that you're so determined to hel-ph." Then he leaned over, grabbed the rag, and wiped his lip.

A blush crept up. "I like that you let me do this. And that you don't feel you have to wear the mask or bandage." She rose onto her knees to moisturize the top of his scalp.

"I like that we have this too. It's still embarrassing, but I'm getting used to it."

With a smile, she leaned around to the back of his head, letting him help hold her weight up. "You should not be embarrassed. I want to do these little things with you." She sat back and worked the cream into his shoulder. Butterflies fluttered. No point in rushing this treat of rubbing his brawny muscles. A soft sigh of longing. "I could touch you all day." She skimmed the hills and valleys of his torso with her fingers, relishing the tickle of the light sprinkling of chest hair. Spaying her hands over his biceps, her eyes skimmed down to the slight path of hair under his navel that led beneath the towel around his waist. Heat pooled in her belly and her heart skipped a beat. So much beauty and power exuded from this magnificent body. Easing the towel apart, she scooted back on his thighs and simply looked. Every fiber of him was so masculine and gorgeous - even the scars somehow adding to his power. Her eyes traveled back up and met his eye watching her. Oh goodness. It'd been so easy to forget that he could see her ogling. "Sorry." She pulled his towel shut with hot cheeks.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. I'm yours to look at and touch." The back of his knuckles stroked her cheek and then he tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. "I find peace in watching you desire what you see."

His gaze held such intensity that she dropped her eyes to his chest even though his fingers remained under her chin. "You're so beautiful and strong." She set her hands on his chest. "Your manner is so quiet and gentle, and yet you can command a room." Swallowing a lump of emotion, she met his eye that held concern. "Your strength and size offer protection, but it's the contrast of your gentleness with me and your fierceness against threats that make it feel so safe."

"Why do you weep, Emma?" The whispered words matched the tenderness with which he brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. He cupped her face in his hands and searched her eyes.

She shook her head. "Sometimes I don't tell you enough why I love you." Mr. Henry would be sending a draft of the interview story in the next few days, and he may have twisted her words. Jason hadn't been present for her interview, and he needed to be secure in her love to believe that she hadn't said anything against him that Mr. Henry might've misconstrued.

But his brow wrinkled with a frown as he pulled her close, as if sensing something wrong that she wouldn't say.


	18. Chapter 18

"Are you serious? Andy was right?" Jason seemed both shocked and elated at the news.

A smile bloomed as she held Henrietta.

"Yes," the speech pathologist said. "Mild dysarthria that we can work with her to overcome. There seem to be certain letters that she can't say right now, such as 'm.' What does she call you?"

"We think she's saying 'daddy' when she says, 'odd-ee.' So far we haven't been able to figure out if she's saying anything else." Jason looked at her.

She shook her head. "He got her to try to say 'moo' once, but she didn't say the 'm.' Otherwise, it all seems to be gibberish."

He leaned down to be more eye level with Henrietta in her lap. "Henrietta, who is that? Is that Mommy?" He pointed at her.

Henrietta squealed and shoved her face in her pink blanket from Nana to hide like she was shy.

"Who is that, poppet?" Jason eased the blanket down.

"Ah na na!" Then she bent in half at the waist and hugged the giraffe in her lap.

Jason sat back and shook his head. "She likes to make that noise. We can't really get her to say much."

The therapist smiled and looked at her. "I think she's trying to call you 'mama.'"

Her heart melted. "Ohhh, really? When she woke up from her nap in your room that one night, she said that. Was she calling for me?" She looked at Jason.

He smiled and leaned down to Henrietta. "Is that Mama? Can you say, 'mama'?"

"Ah na na!" She sat up and her little legs kicked in excitement. Then she flung herself back and looked up upside-down with a grin, reaching out her arms and babbling.

"Oh, sweetheart." Scooping her up, she hugged the little darling tight. When she'd woken up alone the other day, Henrietta had called for her to come. Tears welled. Henrietta didn't just love Jason. "I love you, baby."

Those arms that filled out with more chub each day wrapped around her neck and she chattered. Then she leaned over toward Jason. "Odd-ee!" As soon as Jason smiled and took her, Henrietta leaned over to her. "Ah na na!"

Jason handed her over and belly laughed. "Oh, I see where this game is going."

Henrietta leaned over to him. "Odd-ee!" When he picked up a toy to distract her instead, her little face scrunched. A sharp, short shriek of displeasure reddened her face. She held out her arms for him to take her.

"Oh, now, no tantrum. Are you hungry, princess? It's almost lunch time." She made the sign for 'food' with her hand.

The girl copied the gesture.

"May I watch her eat? Sometimes that can indicate where the muscle trouble is coming from." The therapist kept an eye on Henrietta's mouth as she babbled.

"You're welcome to join us." He leaned over and whispered, "We can't tell Andy the diagnosis."

"Why?" She frowned. It was better than had been hoped and -

"We'll never hear the end of it that she was right." A dead serious expression crossed his face.

A laugh burst out. She handed him the baby and headed for the kitchen to help Trudy get lunch ready. The room dipped and everything dimmed. She grabbed the nearest thing - the doorknob - before everything came back into focus and leveled out.

"Are you alright, Em?" Jason's voiced sounded far away.

Glancing over her shoulder at Jason on the sofa still, she nodded. No more late nights until getting caught up on sleep.

* * *

"So the therapist thinks what Jason did - that her jaw doesn't always get the brain signals to move." She sat on the floor with Henrietta, Mom, and Jason while Nana and Andy sat on the sofa in the cabin room.

Andy preened. "So, I was right?"

Jason drew a deep breath but bit his tongue.

Setting a hand on his shoulder, she smiled at Andy. "You were right that it's dysarthria."

"Oh my god! I mostly said that so you guys wouldn't be stressed for the appointment! I didn't think I'd be right!" She dropped to the floor next to him and punched Jason's arm. "Come on, tell me I did a good job on this one," she drawled in a coax.

Ohhh, it was kind of sweet that Andy wanted to redeem herself to Jason after the whole getting her drunk at a bar incident.

He rolled his eye. "You did a good job," he mumbled and offered his profile.

Being a sturdy woman, Andy had the strength to jerk Jason forward in a hug, and she gave him a hearty slap on the back. Everyone burst out laughing. "Yeah I did, Cuz!"

He straightened and smoothed out his suit jacket when Andy released him.

"That's good news, then? Compared to what the doctors originally thought?" Mom stroked Henrietta's short curls.

Jason nodded. "It's a less severe brain injury than thought. With speech therapy as she grows up, she has a good chance of minimal speech impairment. She can comprehend language, so that's good." His voice grew solemn. "We won't know for a few years if she's able to read and write without difficulty. But she's doing very well for never having any therapy or anything, so we hope she'll do just fine in school."

"Of course she will - she has you two for parents, doesn't she? I can tell she's a whippersnapper. Right, Henrietta?" Nana rested her gnarled hands on top of the cane.

Henrietta looked up at Nana and slapped her hands together.

"She's a very happy baby. Are you clapping?" Nana smiled and clapped with her.

"I think she's trying to sign for 'ball.'" He picked up the ball near Nana's feet and held it out to Henrietta. "This? Can you say, 'ball'?"

She held out her arms. "Ull ull." But it came out more like a grunt.

"The therapist said to try to get her to say what she wants so her mouth gets used to forming the words," she explained.

"Good girl," he cooed and rolled it to Henrietta. He pulled off his suit jacket, tossed it over a chair, and laid on his stomach to play ball.

"Never thought I'd see Dr. Perfect on the floor," Andy drawled with a smile.

"Never thought I'd hear Cousin Andy be quiet for more than sixty seconds," he cooed and smiled at Henrietta while sending that zinger to Andy.

A smile tugged. "Behave you two." Then she leaned back on her hands to ease the ache in her back. Apparently twisting around Jason with the lotion last night hadn't been a good idea.

"What did the physical therapist say?" Mom blew a raspberry kiss on Henrietta's cheek as the girl tried to figure out how to make the ball go.

The child squealed and belly laughed.

"That her muscles are actually coming along on their own. If her walking isn't improving in a month to call back." Jason rolled onto his back on the floor as Henrietta crawled on him to get away from Mom's raspberry kisses. He lifted Henrietta in the air like an airplane, and the little dear jammed a fist in her mouth and screamed in glee.

She smiled. Not much could be cuter than a man on the floor with a baby.

"She's not going to be spoiled at all. Oh my god!" Andy shot up and darted over to a bag in the corner of the room. "I forgot to give her presents." She came over and dumped the bag, revealing a bunch of toys and clothes.

Everyone burst out laughing. "No, not spoiled at all, Andy," Jason smiled.

* * *

He laid Henrietta down in bed and pulled up the bedrails for naptime. "Go, I think she's out," he whispered.

She tiptoed into his room and eased closed the connecting door. Then she flipped on the baby monitor that Mom had given. Henrietta's soft breathing filled the air. She set it down on the dresser.

"We should go back downstairs with our guests," he frowned in confusion.

Shoving him down onto the bed, she jerked his shirt out of the waistband. "Five minutes. They'll think we're still putting her down."

"What? Em - "

But she caught his mouth and silenced the protests while unzipping his pants. "Jay, I need you right now." Kicking off her pants, she reached down to guide him.

"Whoa! Em, slow down." He pushed on her shoulders and sat up, forcing the kisses to break. "I'm all for sex, but slow it down for a moment. We need birth control, for one. For another, I need more than two seconds to get going and you do too so we don't hurt each other."

Ripping off the rest of her clothes and then his, she stroked to help him get going and straddled his hips.

"Oh-ho-kay, gentle." He grabbed her wrist to slow her down. "What's gotten into you?" A half-smile, half-attacked look crossed his face.

Oh god, the heat pooled, mounting the need too fast. "I don't know. I just need you so bad right now I can't stand it." She guided his hand and the moment he touched, she collapsed on his chest with a soft cry.

Her reaction seemed to speed him along, and he covered her mouth with his as she struggled to keep the household from knowing what was going on.

"Oh god, I...think you killed me," he rolled off and panted. "That has to be some kind of record for...under two minutes. You're like...an animal, sweetheart. That was...hot, but I don't know that I'd survive that daily."

Rolling onto her side to cuddle up to him, she practically purred. "You put out the fire three times."

His head raised. "Three? Do you feel alright? You're not usually this...um, excitable."

"Mmmm, perfect." She threw a leg over his and closed her eyes for a moment to rest.

* * *

Staying awake during dinner proved to be a challenge.

She smothered a yawn for the forth time and wiped Henrietta's messy mouth again.

The foster children chatted with Nana, Mom, and Andy, so no one noticed when Jason leaned in and whispered, "Go on up to bed, love. I'll finish with the children. I daresay you wore yourself out."

"Alright, thanks."

The moment her head hit the pillow, slumber came.

* * *

A boy's scream. The bed shuddered. A deep, startled gasp.

Her eyes shot open.

A dark silhouette lept across the bed. Darted through the canopy curtains. A far door slammed. Bobby on Jason's side of the bed. A flashlight. Jason gone. The mask on the nightstand.

No. Oh god. The boy had come to see Jason's scars. And Jason had woken up. It had to be a nightmare. But it didn't stop.

She shot up in bed. "Bobby, what's wrong?" The words squeezed out of her throat, a shred of hope willing him to say he had a bad dream and had come for comfort.

The boy looked shaken in the glow of the flashlight. "I just wanted to know. I didn't think he'd look like that." His voice quivered.

Bile rose. Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard. The boy knew better than to look, much less sneak up on Jason, and there was no going back. "Do not describe it to the other children, understood?"

"I heard stories that he's part monster."

The boy was confused and frightened. And the only way to bring Jason back was if the boy could convince Jason that he wasn't afraid of his face. Opening her eyes, she held out her hand for him to come up on the bed. But he backed away.

"Bobby, he was burned in a fire. The doctors tried to repair his face, but it didn't work. He's a good man and kind. He won't hurt you. Don't make him ashamed. Let's go find him so we can talk."

"I don't want to be here." The tone didn't hold distress or fear, but anger.

Taking a deep breath to control the response in the dim light, she met Bobby's eyes with a firm look. "We'll call the staff tomorrow to see how soon the foster home will be ready. It should be in a day or two now - "

"I'm leaving tomorrow, and you can't make me stay." He glared above the glow of the flashlight, something very dark in him surfacing.

"We will discuss it in the morning." Instinct said to get out of bed and be on her feet as a precaution. Precaution to what? She stood and walked around the bed, this young teenager her own size already.

He stepped in her way. "Are you going to hit me for it? Because I'm as big as you."

From someone else it'd be easy to cock an eyebrow at the attempt to act tough, but with the anger dancing in Bobby's eyes and his size, it wasn't an act. It was a threat. "No one in this house hits. Go back to your room and we'll talk in the morning." Her stomach clenched in dread as Bobby's hand tightened around the flashlight. "Bobby." Her tone remained firm so as not to portray the fear. Whatever had happened to this boy had disturbed him, and he needed help from a psychologist.

THe flashlight whipped up.

Flinging an arm up and whipping her head to the side to block the blow, she braced for the pummel of heavy metal.

A thunk but it didn't hit. A woodsy scent. Turning her head, she stared at the back of a large silhouette. The thick arm stretched up, a hand wrapped around the other end of the flashlight.

"How dare you raise a hand to her," a deep voice hissed. "You could kill someone with this! Get in your room! Now!" His roar tore through the halls. Jason ripped the flashlight from the boy's grip and flung it on the floor. Everything pitched into darkness.

The lights flipped on. Jason stood near the door, despite no mask. "Get out of this room," he snarled. When the boy didn't move, he stormed over, putting himself between her and Bobby. "You came to stare at the beast. You have what you came for." The low timbre of his growl practically hummed at the deep pitch. "Get out! You will not threaten my wife or anyone else in this house! Stay in your room until I come in the morning!" If the anger in his voice didn't demand obedience, his furious glare certainly did. He visibly shook with anger.

"Or what? I'm a minor. You can't touch me." The boy spat on Jason's chest.

Her mouth fell open in shock.

"Oh, I won't touch a goddamn hair on you," Jason hissed. He grabbed the back of the boy's shirt and hauled him out. The halls rang with the tongue lashing Jason gave the boy in a bedroom in the other wing. He didn't belittle or threaten the boy, but he certainly laid down the law.

Lydia peeked in the doorway with a couple of the other girls after the shouting continued for a few minutes. "Is that Dr. Port?"

She sat on the bed and nodded, wincing at how Bobby's ears must be ringing at close range. "He came in while we were sleeping to see Dr. Port's face." The children's eyes widened. "It wasn't until Bobby threatened to hit me with a flashlight and spat on Dr. Port that he earned the lecture."

The girls gasped and ran in, jumping on the bed around her. "Are you hurt?"

"Dr. Port should spank him!"

"Bobby's always been mean." Lydia swept aside her hair to check over her face for signs of injury.

She smiled. "I'm fine. I'm sure Dr. Port wants to spank him, but we don't hit anybody in this house."

"I bet Dr. Port would punch a grownup for hurting you," one of the older girls sighed wistfully.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "She's always reading romance books."

With a laugh, she stood. "Come, girls. I hear Dr. Port's voice giving out, so you should be able to sleep now." Then she walked the girls back to their rooms.

Jason returned a few minutes later, locked the door, and stepped into the bathroom. The water ran for a minute, probably to wash the spit off his bare chest. Then the light flipped off and his footsteps padded across the room.

"Are you okay?" She pulled down the sheets on his side of the bed.

"Yes. He's sleeping in Steven's room where he can be watched." His poor voice rasped not much louder than a whisper.

"Do you want some hot tea? Your throat must hurt." Laying a hand on his neck, she stroked to sooth the strained muscles.

His head shook. "I'm calling a therapist in the morning. Something happened to him that he can't deal with, and I'm too pissed at him to talk tonight. Are you alright?"

She laid her head on his shoulder and nodded while caressing his chest. "I think you probably came back just in time."

"I stayed within earshot. Something about him has had me on edge."

"Jay? I'm glad you didn't take his reaction to you to heart." She sat up and pulled off her clothes before laying down again. Nuzzling his neck, she sighed in contentment.

"You enjoy a beast in your bed?" He rasped in a weak growl.

Keeping her eyes closed, she cocked an eyebrow. "You know I don't like that word. Do you just try to get me to say it?"

"It does not have to have a negative connotation in bed from my wife." The huskiness leaked out in his hoarse voice as he shifted to be on top.

Rolling onto her back, she opened her eyes, even though it was dark, and smiled. "A little bit of an ego boost?" Her arms wrapped around as he settled his weight. "Do you want me to say I come to the beast's bed without hesitation every night? That I - " A soft gasp escaped as he joined her. Her legs wrapped around and she held tight as her body instantly welcomed him. "That my beast is a glorious lover?"

"That you lie down and welcome the touch of what the rest of the world fears," he whispered as his back arched in a graceful curve. "It brings me pleasure that you do not cower before my temper and seek my bed." His back curled again, prolonging her sighs. "To hold something so beautiful and kind and intelligent brings me great pleasure."

Her heart twisted. He saw her as the quiet, once frightened woman who had wandered into a castle and hadn't shied from the beast inside. The fact that she sought his companionship in the day and his love at night still seemed to be a magical concept to him.

"I will always lie on your bed in wait, never seeing the beast but only the man beneath," she whispered in his ear. "I'll always offer you my heart and body."

"Emma," he breathed, his muscles coiling as if her words brought him physical pleasure.

"Claim me," she whispered, pushing him to the edge. "I want to be yours forever."

The simple words were his undoing.

* * *

Jason remained more quiet than usual the next morning getting out of bed.

"Is everything alright?" She looked at him as she pulled on her shirt.

He nodded as he knotted his tie. "Last night..." He swallowed hard and turned away.

It had offended him in the morning light. That horrible word -

He turned and held her upper arms, burying his face in her hair. "Thank you," he whispered in a thick voice, as if emotion prevented further words. Pressing a kiss to her lips, he swept out of the room like perhaps he might weep if he stayed.

Turning to stare at his back, she pressed her fingers to her lips. Oh my. Never had it dawned that the terrible word from her could've brought him so much peace. It was as if her acknowledgement of what the world saw - and immediately after his humiliation with Bobby - and still not letting it stop her from loving him, soothed his soul. As if the last sliver of fear that one day she'd run finally died.

* * *

The psychologist walked into Jason's office after meeting for two hours with Bobby in his room. Pulling off his glasses, the older man wiped them against his shirt and shook his head.

She closed her work laptop and Jason set down the phone for a work call he'd been about to make. Henrietta seemed content to look at books on her playmat for the moment.

"Please, sit." Jason gestured to the chair beside her at the desk.

He put on his glasses and sat. "Well, I can't guarantee it, but I don't believe the boy would've actually struck you, Mrs. Port." Then his eyes shifted to Jason. "He was physically and emotionally abused by his father, and I think he was testing your authority here. He seeks to intimidate others to feel powerful and in control. The other children say he's punched the older boys at the foster home during fights. Bobby won't speak to the context of those, so I can't say if he was provoked or not."

"Is he a danger to anyone in this house?" Jason's voice held an ironclad ring that had rarely been there before.

"One can ever guarantee, but I don't believe so. I would not leave the baby alone with him, just to be safe. I suggest weekly therapy, perhaps even twice a week, to help him deal with his anger toward his father. I think some of what you said to him last night made an impression, Dr. Port. He mentioned to me several times that you didn't even threaten to raise a hand, which seemed like a foreign concept to him."

Glancing at Jason for a moment, she met his eye. It was too easy to relate to Bobby's confusion at the prospect of a man who didn't cause harm. "He looked angry enough to hit Jason last night when he got in between us. He doesn't seem to like male authority, but I highly doubt he'll listen to me at all."

The man sat back in his chair. "Yes, but I think eventually he's going to trust and respect your husband. It will take some work and some banging your head against the wall, but this boy very much wants a male role model. He grew up with anger and beatings for his entire life and then was ripped away from what had been familiar for fifteen years. Try to find some common interest with him, Dr. Port. Be around him and let him observe that men don't need to hit and belittle others. Let him see your interactions with your wife and the other children to learn that being a 'real man' means being kind and never physical."

Jason released a deep sigh and nodded. "And if he gets out of control again?"

The therapist stood with a smile. "Maybe, just maybe, he's hearing what you're lecturing, Dr. Port. I'll be back in a few days." Then the man left.

"Lovely." Jason heaved a sigh. "This will be fun." He pushed himself out of his chair. "I suppose I should tell him he can leave his room. You and the baby are not to be alone in a room with him." Then he left.

Bobby challenged Jason with snide remarks or outright provoking the rest of the day, but Jason kept his temper in check. Three times Jason sent Bobby to his room so far, each time following through with a firm scolding. Hopefully his diligence would pay off soon because Jason seemed ready to lose it.

At dinner, Bobby glared at Jason from across the table. Jason helped feed Henrietta and conversed with the children, but slight tension in his shoulders portrayed that Bobby's angry stare didn't go unnoticed.

"Can you not eat with us ever, Dr. Port?" Lydia frowned and swung her legs in the chair on the other side of Henrietta.

"No, love." He kept his tone patient.

"Do you not like the food? I'll make you something else." The sweet thing so admired Jason.

He cracked a smile. "I like the food. I just have reason to eat in private or with Mrs. Port."

"He kills rabbits and kitties and rips their throats out at night with his teeth. He wears a mask because he turns into a monster at night - "

"Bobby! That is enough," she scolded, trying to turn down the temperature of her boiling blood. "You do not frighten her, and you do not speak disrespectfully of Dr. Port!"

"Ooooh, the little woman speaks," he snickered. "He probably comes in your bed afterwards and - "

Jason's hands slammed down on the table so hard and fast that everyone jumped as much as the dishes bounced. "Get in your room." Jason spat the words through clenched teeth, his look lethal. He shoved his chair back, his chest heaving in his attempt to control his temper. "You will not speak so crudely to a woman, and you will not be disrespectful to adults."

Bobby shoved back his chair in a fit. "I'm not two that I need timeouts!"

"Then stop acting like it," Jason snapped. "And I'm getting damn sick of lecturing you like you're two."

Henrietta seemed to pick up on Jason's temper because she gave her fiercest look to Bobby, shrieked in frustration, and slapped her hands down on the table like Jason had. Everyone else, even Trudy and Pete, looked afraid to jump in the brewing storm between Jason and Bobby.

"Maybe you should grow some balls and just hit me! You're a fucking coward!" Bobby thrust a finger toward Jason.

Dead. Silence.

Rushing to Jason's defense would only discredit his authority in Bobby's eyes.

All the anger fled his voice. Jason looked the boy straight in the eye and spoke slow and calm, holding his head high. "Beating women and children isn't being a man, that's being a coward. If you want to believe I'm a coward and your father is a 'real man,' that's fine. At the end of the day when my wife and you children don't look at me in fear and will turn to me for help or protection, you call that being a coward? Because I talk to and work things out with people instead of beat them into silence?" He paused for a moment.

His next words held no condescension, but earnest food for thought that sent chills up her spine.

"Tell me, Bobby, if you're in trouble because you made a bad choice, would you come to me or your father for help?" Then he calmly sat down, pulled in his chair, and resumed feeding Henrietta.

A pin could've dropped as loud as a sledgehammer in the silence.

Bobby's hands shook and tears actually welled in his eyes. And then he ran away, his footsteps pounding up the stairs. Jason had finally reached the boy, even though Bobby wasn't ready to admit it yet.

She set a hand on his back, so incredibly proud of him. Even in the face of public humiliation, he'd carried himself with dignity and grace while teaching a troubled boy how to be a good man.

"A hootin' onion in the sun, I'm gonna cry. That's the wisest thing I've ever heard, don'tcha know." Trudy sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with her napkin.

The oldest girl looked half in love with him. Pete gave a silent smile of approval and resumed eating.

Lydia cocked her head and looked at Jason continuing to feed the baby, who was unusually quiet. "I think you're the bravest man in the world, Dr. Port."

A sad smile touched his lips. "Thank you, Lydia. I'm afraid not all hold me in such high esteem."

"What's esteem?" The girl frowned.

Leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek, she said, "Not everyone agrees with us that he's so very wonderful."

He tilted his head to lean his temple against her forehead for a moment, as if needing a reminder of her love.

* * *

Her phone rang the next morning. Setting the last financial paper down on the floor to work on a new corporate case in her office, she grabbed her phone. "Hoplin."

"Mrs. Port?"

She blinked. No one at work called her by her married name.

"This is David Henry."

"Oh! Sorry, I thought I grabbed my work cell. Hi, Mr. Henry. How is the story going?" She scooped up Henrietta to sit in her lap rather than crawl across the papers. Jason should be done with his conference call in a half hour to take the baby in his office for a bit.

"That's actually why I'm calling. I have a draft that I'm not happy with, but I'm really struggling with nailing down your husband's personality. Would you mind taking a look at it?"

This came as a surprise. "Sure, as far as feedback if you have him pegged?"

"Precisely. Um...the wording isn't right, so it's probably best to not show him. I mean none of it in offense, it's just getting things down on paper - " He sounded so distraught.

"Mr. Henry, I know you're trying to help. Email it to me, and I'll take a look tonight. May I ask you something?"

A chuckle flowed through the line. "I suppose it's only fair after the fifty I've asked you."

"You seem to have a bit of a personal interest in my husband. He's been difficult, to say the least, and yet you keep hanging in there to help him. Is this just a really big career boost for you getting exclusives with him?" That sounded wrong. "Forgive me, but it's my job as his wife to make sure you have his best interests in mind."

"Of course, Mrs. Port. I gave my word that both of you can review anything that is written about your family. It's a privilege that you've granted me, and I intend to fully respect it." The man seemed to be dancing around the question.

She frowned and let Henrietta go to crawl toward her toys away from the papers. "Mr. Henry, I've danced around interview questions enough to know when I'm being led on a dance."

A soft sigh of defeat. "Let me say that I owe your husband a great deal."

She smiled. Another soul that Jason had somehow helped in the past?

"I will do everything I can to restore his name in the public eye."

The smile faded. Dread gripped. "Mr. Henry, the public has never favored my husband because of his burns." She sat up straighter, a bad feeling creeping up. "You can't restore a reputation that was never in good standing."

Silence.

Her heart beat faster. He couldn't bring up Jason's past at all. "You absolutely cannot allude to what we discussed here in private -"

"No, I understand that. I am keeping it clean and avoiding any of that." But he didn't explain.

She stood, suddenly feeling like a deer that had been lured in for the kill. "Mr. Henry, how is it that you owe my husband?"

No answer.

"Does Jason know?"

"No." A shaky breath. "I'm sure you heard of a photo that was leaked from the hospital years ago."

The photo of Jason in the burn unit that had ruined his life and sent him into hiding because the paparazzi had exposed that he hadn't died in the fire. "What about it?" That horrible photo that shamed him to no end. The horrible photographer that had sneaked into his hospital room when his life had been hanging by a thread and had used it for their own fame and fortune.

His voice came through the line very quiet. "I took that photo, Mrs. Port."


	19. Chapter 19

**Author Note: Was on vacation without Wifi or cell signal. It was great, but I got behind on updates!**

 **I found a different story that I wrote years ago. It breaks a major rule about writing with more than 1 point of view in a chapter, but it still strikes me as it works. It gives unique perspective into the insights of the hero and heroine. I'd be curious for any feedback on that story. I'll put up a few chapters to see what people think. Please check it out under my Author page. I'll put it under B &B, summary of main characters and Mark and Tanya. It'll be an 1800s setting. I'll still finish this story, though. **

* * *

For money. A promotion. To prove himself in the profession.

Leaning her elbows on the desk, she locked her hands behind her neck. The bile rose up. How to tell Jason? He'd be livid and feel betrayed. And she'd been the one to push him to trust Mr. Henry. With the shock so strong, she'd hung up on the reporter's phone call, his apologies not even filtering through the numbness yet. Her stomach churned.

"Em?"

Her head whipped up. Jason stood in the doorway with Henrietta in his arms. "Are you feeling alright?"

She nodded. During work wasn't the time to talk about this. A wave of nausea hit. When he gave a long look and then took Henrietta into his office, she hurried out and got sick in the bathroom.

The stress made the nausea hold on all afternoon. Sipping peppermint tea, she finished work and then went upstairs to lie down for a bit.

The door opened. "Sweetheart, are you ill?" He walked in and sat with Henrietta asleep on this chest. Concern filled his eye as he glanced at the teacup on the nightstand.

"Just stress." This wasn't going to be easy. "Jay, I talked to Mr. Henry. We need to talk about something." She pushed herself up to sit.

"I get to punch him finally?" His eye lit up. When she didn't smile or scold, he sobered. "Let me go put her down."

He came back a few minutes later with Henrietta's soft breathing filtering over the baby monitor in his hand. His weight on the edge of the bed as he sat tilted her toward him. "Did he say something inappropriate?" He set the monitor on the nightstand and took her hand. "If he did, I'll - "

"No." She stared at the floor. How to even start?

"If he wrote something in his article draft that you don't like, we'll make him change it." Tension laced through his voice like he was upset that she was upset.

Oh god, he didn't even see this coming. Her heart dropped. She turned to face him and held his hands. Tears welled. He'd be so humiliated that Mr. Henry had played him for a fool this whole time. "There is no story, Jay."

"No story?" His brow furrowed. "Tell me what happened. You look so sad." His arms wrapped around and he scooped her onto his lap. "Don't cry. I'll fix it, sweetheart." The gentle attempts to comfort only made it harder - he didn't understand that he would need the comforting.

Cupping his face in her hands, she bit her lower lip to hold in the tears. "Remember that photo you said the paparazzi took in the hospital?"

He froze and his eye widened slightly. Panic flashed across his face. "Did he show you?"

"No." As relief swept over his face, the sickening pit in her stomach grew. How to lead him so he'd see the truck barreling closer? How to brace him for the impact? She sniffled and caught his hand as he dried her tears with his handkerchief. "Jay, stop."

"Love, I don't understand why you're so upset. That was years ago. I'm fine now." He offered a soft smile, as if to convince that everything was alright.

"You were still sedated when they took the photo, so you didn't see who it was, did you?" A tear spilled over.

He frowned and shook his head. "No, but it doesn't matter anymore. That's behind us. Are you scared that people are going to figure out who I am? Sweetheart, we're safe. I was so charred and swollen in that photo that no one will recognize - "

Pressing her fingers to his lips, she swallowed down the bile at hearing the details of the horrific injuries. At being burned alive and fighting for his life...while a monster had used his pain and loss for profit. She held his eye, her lip quivering. "He said today that he wants to do this because he feels guilty."

But his forehead wrinkled like he didn't follow.

This time his pain would be her fault. The pushing for him to open up for this damn story, to be seen as a man and not a beast in the public eye... It had achieved nothing and yet prevailed doing everything it had been intended to prevent - humiliation, pain, betrayal, rejection. Stroking his cheek to ease her pain as much as his to come, she sniffled. "Remember how shocked he was to find out you lived?"

"Em, I don't know what you're trying to say, but surely it isn't worth this." The soft, warm pads of his thumbs wiped away the tears as he cupped her face. Worry and love brimmed in his eye.

The cruel irony of his look stabbed like a knife to the heart. She lowered her hands, the shame too much to take liberties of even touching him. He'd never trusted Mr. Henry and had only gone through with all of this because of her pushing. It was her fault, and he'd have every right to not want to even look at her for leading him to this moment. "He told me this afternoon that he met you five years ago." The words choked out in a whisper. "It was him who took the photo, Jay."

The man went sheet white and his eye widened in horror. His hands dropped from her face and he sat back.

This cold moment would be burned to memory forever - the split moment he looked as if she'd betrayed him. Her hands flew to cup his face as she choked on tears. "I didn't know - "

But he caught her wrists and pulled her hands away. His chest heaved a shaky breath and collapsed in a soft, silent sob as he slid out from beneath her lap.

She reached out a hand, ready to beg, ready to do anything to make him believe betraying him couldn't ever be possible. "Jason - "

Henrietta's fussing broke over the monitor as she woke from the nap.

Without a word, he shut off the monitor and left without a look back.

She stared in numb shock.

He didn't return after several minutes, so she got up and went to Henrietta's room next door.

He stood beside the little white bed and dresser bought for their new daughter, cradling the girl as he faced away, staring out the window. The little dear rested her head on his shoulder. He leaned his cheek atop and his hand cupped the back of Henrietta's small head. The quietness of the two of them as he gently swayed from side to side held such sadness. It was as if Henrietta sensed his pain and knew to cuddle him.

A warm tear fell. The moment seemed too precious, too intimate. And too fragile for a betrayer to intrude. So she stayed back to let him find comfort in his daughter.

When he turned, his cheek glistened with tears.

A choked sob escaped - she had done this to him. It should've been kept a secret to spare him this pain. This pain for what? To make him to relive the moments everything and everyone had been ripped away from him and he'd been forced to endure torturous physical pain? To know that another soul in the world had turned on him? A person she'd shoved on him when he hadn't wanted it in the first place. To learn that she didn't keep her promise to protect him from the world? That she'd let it come into their home? It'd been cruel to do this to him. To blindside him with this dagger and make him fall to his knees. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shoved back the nausea as the tears fell. "I'm sorry. I should've lied and said I changed my mind and didn't want the story anymore. I didn't know. I shouldn't have pushed you to do the story. I should've listened to you when you didn't want him here..." She choked on the tears and held a hand to her mouth, unable to spare him any of this pain.

He held out his right hand.

Bowing her head, she closed her eyes against the guilt and agony. A bullet, a sword...nothing could hurt as much as seeing what she'd done to him. And he forgave too easily. Tears fell and splashed against the hardwood floor, bursting apart like her heart. He'd said from the beginning that he didn't like Mr. Henry, but she'd pushed and led him right to the moment of tearing out his heart again.

"No," he croaked in a thick voice. "You're the one I count on to always be honest with me no matter the consequences. You're the one from whom I need every word uttered to be truth."

Her chest shuddered as she met his gaze.

"You will stumble as much as I will, but it is not your responsibility to shield me from the world, Emma."

"But I - "

"Did what you believed was right and would help." He drew a shaky breath, but his voice remained calm and steady. "You did not take those photos and didn't know he did. You are not to blame." He still held out his hand.

He didn't blame her. Fresh tears of relief welled. Walking over, she sniffled as he pulled her against his chest.

"You did nothing wrong," he whispered against her hair and held so tight. "I just need to hold my family right now. To remember what came out of the pain."

She held tight and let the tears silently fall. His pain rippled so deep and palpable. Wrapping an arm around him tight, she set a hand on Henrietta's back. "We love you, Jay." Then she looked up at him through the tears. "I'd never betray you." She swallowed hard and held his eye. "I'd face him again - I'd do it all over again if I knew it led to you."

His face crumpled and he crushed her to him. "Never again," he breathed against her hair, his voice unsteady from tears. "I won't let him ever hurt you again." He drew a deep breath, the raw emotion leaving him barely able to whisper. "I would do it all again too. For you."

Brushing at her eyes, she slipped his handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his tears. "Henrietta, I think Daddy needs a kiss."

Henrietta lifted her head and grinned, offering a happy babble.

Cupping his cheek, she brushed a kiss over his lips to show Henrietta what to do. It won a soft smile from him. "Give Daddy a kiss." She looked at Henrietta and smiled in encouragement before dabbing away her own eyes.

The girl laughed and clapped her hands on his cheeks, not seeming to notice the mask. Then she planted a sloppy kiss on his lips with a loud smack. When she pulled back, she grinned. "Odd-ee!"

A laugh bubbled out of him and he brushed at his eye. "Mama needs a kiss too." He gave a kiss, and Henrietta smacked a sweet, drooly kill on her cheek.

Happiness glinted in his eye again, the sadness fleeting away. He hugged them both tight for another moment. Then he pulled back and gave a sneaky smile and winked. "Kiss!" A surprise kiss for Henrietta. She grinned and planted on kiss on Henrietta's cheek as he kissed the other chubby little cheek.

Henrietta burst into giggles and squeals, flailing her hands and feet in glee. "Iss! Iss!"

"Kiss? Do you like kisses?" He smiled from the depths of his heart and glanced at her when Henrietta belly laughed and clapped her little hands in anticipation.

"Kiss!" She squished a big kiss on Henrietta's cheek at the same time as Jason on the other side.

Henrietta's happy scream rang through the halls. And seemed to heal Jason's heart.

* * *

She bit her lip and sat on the exam table the next afternoon. The nurse had insisted on stripping and putting on a gown.

The doctor walked in with a smile. "Hi, Emma. What brings you in today?"

How embarrassing. But a female GYN has probably heard it all before. With hot cheeks, she dove in. "I've been feeling a bit lightheaded, and just off the past few days. Last night, um..." Just blurt it out. "My husband and I were intimate." Hopefully the doctor wouldn't ask how rambunctious and romantic Jason had been after that declaration of love last night. "Um, and I had cramping after that I haven't had before... My lower back is a bit achy. I'm guessing it's a urinary tract infection." There. The most embarrassing part was over.

"It could be. Is sex painful?" The doctor washed and pulled on gloves.

Oh dear god, not gloves. "No. It's actually been the opposite lately." Put away the gloves.

"Are you using any contraceptive?" The doctor sat on the stool and rolled closer.

No, no, no, no, no. Move away. "Um, we weren't a few times because we were going to try conceiving, but we actually just adopted a toddler. I used a home pregnancy test last weekend, and it was negative. We've been using condoms again." Dear god, woman, back away with the gloves.

The doctor smiled. "Congratulations. A boy or girl?" She spread out a drape over her lap.

Oh god, not the drape. And why did doctors think anyone enjoyed small talk during exams like this? "Girl."

"Ohh, I bet she's adorable. Lie back. Let's take a look and rule out anything else." She pulled out the stirrups.

Dammit. Telling Jason would've been a better idea - going in a cup for him wouldn't have been this embarrassing.

The doctor chattered and finally asked, "Is it uncomfortable when I press?"

Holy cow, if she was trying to palpate through to the floor! "Yeah." She grit her teeth.

"Alright." She relented and helped her sit up, thank god. "I'll order bloodwork and a urinalysis. Go to the lab and we'll discuss the results in a few minutes."

She blinked. "Aren't the results usually a call back in a few hours? Why bloodwork?"

"I think it's straightforward enough, but let's talk when the results are back. Nothing to worry about." The doctor smiled and left the lab papers before slipping out.

Doctors always said not to worry when it was time to worry. Oh god. Maybe an STI from Gaston that had taken years to show up. It'd probably caused sterilization brewing for this long. Tears welled. How to tell Jason no pregnancies? Oh god, Jason had been exposed too. Another horrible way Gaston had damaged everything, another thing he had taken. The tears fell.

Pulling on her clothes, she grabbed the paperwork and pulled out her cell. Her finger hovered over Jason's phone number. He wouldn't blame - he'd be furious at Gaston but patient and supportive of her. He might know if the treatment the doctor would pick would be the best option. The doctor would probably discuss it in a few minutes. And he wouldn't be angry about needing testing too. But no babies...that'd devastate him. After the blow about Mr. Henry yesterday, he didn't need this too. If it turned out to be just a UTI, he didn't need the stress of coming and waiting for the results. If it was an STI, he didn't deserve to have to sit and wait to find out if his wife had infected him because she'd had a loser boyfriend. Sticking the phone in her purse, she wiped away the tears with a shaking hand and opened the door.

The minutes dragged and her heart slammed painfully hard waiting for the doctor to come back in a half hour later. The shaking wouldn't stop. Jason could've been here by now. He'd been on a conference call and hadn't even known she'd left. Even if the call wasn't done, he'd drop everything and come. She looked down at the phone clutched in a white-knuckled grip. It'd be selfish to ask him to come. Clutching the phone gave something to cling to as she brushed away another tear.

The doctor walked in and stopped in her tracks. "Emma, why are you crying?"

All of the emotions and guilt and stress opened like floodgates. The tears burst out. "It's an STI from the rape and I can't have babies and I infected Jason, didn't I?"

"Oh, hun, no." She shut the door, grabbed the box of tissues, and hurried over. "No, I would've warned you if I thought it was something bad."

She took a tissue and wiped her nose. "But bloodwork isn't n,needed to check for a,a UTI," she hicupped.

"Deep breaths." The doctor rubbed her back. "Bloodwork _is_ needed to check for pregnancy." The doctor smiled.

"But I said we did check. It was negative." How had the doctor not heard that?

A smile spread over her lips. "Emma, you had a false result. You're very much pregnant - you have all the physiological signs and your hormones are elevated."

Shaking her head, she swallowed hard as fresh tears welled. It had to be a missed miscarriage. "It was negative. He didn't buy an early result test because I'd just had my period. Your test is more sensitive - it's picking up a failed pregnancy."

"Emma, Emma, you're emotional right now. Your hormones are on the lower end of normal, which is fine. It doesn't mean a miscarriage. Progesterone doubles every twenty-four to forty-eight hours, so it's possible that when you tested on the weekend, you weren't high enough for a non-early test to pick it up. Right now, everything seems healthy. The nurse wrote that you've been on prenatal vitamins?"

She nodded dumbly.

"Good. We think having high levels of folic acid in your blood before pregnancy can help reduce the risk of miscarriage. I know the timing isn't the best with a new toddler, but things work out the way they do for a reason. Keep taking the vitamins daily..."

Everything the doctor said melted into a stunned buzz in the background. A baby? But a baby was supposed to take months of trying. And not now with Henrietta just entering the picture. A baby? There had to be some kind of mistake. The other pregnancy had caused severe symptoms. Pregnancy couldn't be this easy. It had to be a missed miscarriage.

"I'll see you in a couple weeks when the baby is eight weeks old." The doctor's words filtered in again. "We'll have a better grasp on the due date when we do the ultrasound then, but I'd say a Forth of July baby is in the cards."

She got in the car and sat behind the wheel. And stared in shock.

Walking into the house, Jason's voice came from his office. He must be on a phone call, thankfully. Breaking the news at three o'clock on a weekday didn't seem like good timing. But, it'd lead to heartbreak just like last time. Maybe it'd be best to tell him once the bleeding started so he wouldn't get his hopes up that this pregnancy would come through. The shock still hadn't quite faded either.

Henrietta's squeals mingled with Trudy's chatter in the kitchen where they probably made cookies or some after school snack for the children. Trudy would figure out soon enough that she'd returned. Pete must be gone to pick up the children.

Wandering into her office, she shut the door and dropped into her chair. A baby. A baby nestled inside. The numbness melted away to be replaced by profound, unconditional love for something not even seen or touched yet. Even knowing the heartbreak to come, it didn't stop the love from overflowing. Pushing back her chair, she sneaked upstairs to her bathroom.

With the door closed, she unbuttoned her pants and turned to look in the mirror. Nothing. No bump yet. Maybe that was good - the other pregnancy had caused so much water retention right off the bat. Or maybe it meant the pregnancy was already fading. Stroking her lower belly, she opened her mouth and then hesitated. Talking to the baby would just make it that much harder. So she swallowed hard and said the one thing she should've said last time. "I love you." With one last stroke, she buttoned her pants. And braced for those to be the last words to the baby.

Rounding the corner into the hall, she plowed straight into a hard, unyielding chest.

"Whoa, are you alright?" He grabbed her arms when she stumbled back a step. "My apologies, I didn't hear you coming."

Grabbing her belly out of instinct, she nodded but let go before he'd notice. "I'm fine."

Stress creased the corner of his eye. "I need your brain if you have five minutes."

The appointment had already taken an hour longer than Olin expected her to be gone, but five more minutes wouldn't kill him. "Sure." It hadn't occurred how hard it'd be not saying anything to Jason. Surely the bleeding would start in a day or two. But he might be hurt if he knew she'd waited to tell him. On the other hand, a five-minute conversation during work hours wasn't the ideal time to talk about this.

He started walking with her to his office. "I have a meeting with our financial VP about GOP for a potential partnership with a medical equipment company like you suggested doing. I'm trying to crunch through numbers, but it looks to me like it's not a symbiotic relationship for the Foundation. You're better at this, so I wanted your thoughts." He seemed stressed.

"That's horrible ROI!" He gaped at her calculations a few minutes later. "Why would he propose we do this!"

"Because in the first five years it doesn't look so bad, but you make up for it in the long run." She got up from his chair. "I gotta get back to work now." When he caught her hand, she looked over her shoulder.

"The board position offer still stands, Em." Hope glimmered in his eye.

Working with him would be wonderful and probably even fun. But Jason just didn't get it that she wasn't smart enough to be sitting around a table with the best of the best and geniuses. "Thank you, but you know I can't."

"I know you think you can't. Em, you're one of the best Olin has, and you've only been working FBI cases for a year." He held out a hand. "Tell me why you can't do a measly Foundation."

"A multi-million dollar Foundation isn't measly." With a forced smile to hide the regret of having to turn him down again, she went to her office. He'd realize a week into the job that she wasn't good enough. It wouldn't be right to put him in the position of firing his wife for a job that she shouldn't have taken in the first place. With a sad sigh, she sat down and started working on the financial hack of a children's research hospital on the East Coast.

* * *

During dinner, it took a great deal of effort to stay awake. A pregnancy website said exhaustion in the first trimester could be expected, but this was ridiculous. Conversations made little sense to her slowed down brain, much less the three conversations going on at the table with the children all chattering. Her head bobbed and she jerked. Must've fallen asleep for a moment.

Jason leaned over. "Go on to bed. I'll tuck in the children." He pressed his hand against her forehead. "Maybe you're coming down with something."

Trudy carried over a pan of brownies.

Bile rose up from the smell. With a nod to Jason, she hurried out of the kitchen. And made it to the bathroom just in time.

Crawling into bed, she collapsed on top of the covers. Roast beef coming back up was not pleasant. Perhaps best to avoid chunky foods until the pregnancy hormones faded in a few days. Showering could wait until tomorrow. Even changing into a nightgown could wait.

"Sweetheart, lets tuck you in." His voice filtered through the haze of slumberland. He slid off her pants. A moan of protest didn't stop him from sitting her up against his chest to pull off her shirt.

The gentle movement may as well have been a ship being tossed in a storm. Her eyes shot open and she dove for the bathroom.

He swept up her hair and set a hand on her back as she leaned over the sink. "Oh, sweetheart, your stomach was practically empty. Did you get sick earlier?"

She nodded and rinsed her mouth. Dear god, even the movement of nodding caused a wave of nausea.

His arms slowly wrapped behind her knees and back and he carried her back to bed. The nausea battled the exhaustion, but sleep prevailed. As he laid her down, his words filtered through a long tunnel. "I'll nurse you back to health, love. Go to sleep."

* * *

The next morning, her stomach growled. She rolled over and opened her eyes. The sunlight peeked in behind the curtains, and the bed was cold but held Jason's imprint. A note laid on his pillow.

 _Called Olin and told him you have the flu. Have an eight o'clock meeting and then I'll take the day off. Call our cells if you need us. Trudy has Henrietta. I'll be back a bit after nine._

 _I love you,_

 _J_

She trotted downstairs after showering. The hall clock struck nine as she headed straight for the kitchen. Food.

Trudy sat with Pete at the table. Henrietta sat in a highchair and squealed as Trudy played airplane with the spoon. "Here it comes! Here it comes!" Trudy swirled the spoonful of applesauce in the air and slid it into Henrietta's wide-open mouth.

Henrietta chewed and clapped her hands as her little feet kicked in excitement. Then she opened her mouth and made grunts like she wanted more.

"Say 'more,'" Pete coaxed.

"Or! Or!"

"Good girl!" Pete took a turn with the tiny spoon making a delivery.

She grabbed a bowl of fruit from the fridge and a big muffin from the counter. Then she set a plate next to Trudy at the table.

They both stared at her. Henrietta shrieked with a grin and held out her arms. "Ah ah!"

"Hi, pumpkin." She walked around and kissed Henrietta, but the darling grabbed her shirt and tried to get out of the highchair. Freeing the girl, she took her to sit in her lap.

The little love wrapped her arms around her neck in a hug. Then Henrietta turned in her lap and grabbed a chunk of cantaloupe, gnawing on it like a squirrel.

"No, sweetheart, we have to cut it so you don't choke." With a smile, she cut it into pieces. At least having Henrietta when the pregnancy failed would be a balm of sorts.

The darling babbled and then looked up at her with a smile as juice trailed down that sweet little chin.

"I have no idea what you're saying, but you're so cute," she cooed and kissed her forehead. Henrietta somehow made everything more bearable.

With a giggle, the girl threw her face into her chest with shyness. Cold juice leaked through from Henrietta's face.

"That was a fast recovery," Pete commented.

"What if we start with toast, don'tcha know. Dr. Port, er, Jason, said you were sick as a dog in chocolate last night." Trudy looked concerned.

"I'm feeling much better." Oh dear, the news needed to be broken to Jason soon.

Pete's eyebrows rose as she ate the muffin and four slices of cantaloupe in the time it took Henrietta to eat her slice. "Wow, I guess you are feeling better."

Trudy stared, a smile spreading. "You're pregnant."

Her eyes flew to Trudy and she shook her head. Jason should be the first to find out. And telling everyone and then recalling the news would make it that much harder.

"You are, don'tcha know! You're tired, eat like a horse and the hormonies are makin' ya sick." She crushed her in a hug, practically dancing in her seat. Pete grinned.

Pulling back, she looked from Trudy to Pete to Trudy. "It won't last."

"Jesus knows it's time. Of course it'll last." Trudy's smile faded when she didn't return the smile.

"Jason doesn't know. He'll only get his hopes up." She held Henrietta tighter in comfort.

"My grandma miscarried, and the doctor said she'd never have a live baby. She went on to have nine children." Pete nodded in affirmation like he knew it'd all be fine.

"Shut yer yappin'. She don't want to be hearing your tales. She wants to talk, don'tcha know." Trudy set an arm around her shoulders.

"You can't breathe a word to anyone. Jason would be so hurt if he heard it from someone else."

"Heard what from someone else?" Jason walked in and stopped when he spotted the muffin wrapper on her plate. "Um, I don't think you should be eating more than toast and water until we know your stomach is settling. You shouldn't even be out of bed." He walked over and eased Henrietta from her lap. "And let's wait to hold the baby until we know you aren't contagious." He handed the baby to Trudy. "Come, I'll tuck you back in bed."

She took his hand and glanced over her shoulder at Trudy and Pete, who waved for her to go break the news.

His arm wrapped around as he led the way up the stairs. "Are you alright to walk up the stairs, or should I carry you?"

"Jay, I'm fine." Goodness, he turned into a mother hen.

"I'll check you for a fever. I'm not so sure you should've eaten that muffin, sweetheart. I'll check your blood pressure because it elevates with dehydration - "

Stopping in the hall, she set a hand on his chest. "I feel fine. Truly." She opened her mouth to launch into the news but stopped. There was no sense in getting him excited only to turn around and break his heart in a few days.

"Are you certain? No one else had food poisoning. You likely have the stomach flu, sweetheart." Concern furrowed his brow.

"I feel alright."

He sighed. "Tell me if you feel ill. Probably best to stay away from the children for the day, just in case. Should I draw you a warm bath? Are you achy at all?"

Goodness, he fretted. "My back aches, but I don't think it's from the flu."

The man took her elbow, as if to keep her steady, and led the way to the bathroom.

He must've noticed her suppressed smile as he drew the bath. "Yes, I become overbearing when you're ill. You could have it worse." Then he stood and helped her strip. His eye narrowed. "Sweetheart, you look swollen." The pads of his fingers gently palpated her breasts. "Do you hurt?"

"Jay!" She pushed his hands away in embarrassment. "For heaven sake, I don't need an exam."

Offering a hand, he helped her step into the tub. "I just want to make sure you're alright."

Keeping this under wraps might be harder than expected with a doctor for a husband.


	20. Chapter 20

She stared at this beautiful man in bed beside her. The golden firelight danced over him as he slept on his back, his face turned toward her. Lately, he seemed to relax enough in sleep to not hide his face, even appearing to fall into a deeper slumber without the pain of laying on the scars.

He was so handsome and masculine and powerful. Perfectly sculpted muscles and the warmth of his smooth skin pooled heat between her legs. Her fingers glided over his chest, relishing the feel of the soft sprinkling of hair over the hard planes. The slight ripples of his chest scar had become so familiar that the lines could be mapped with her eyes closed. But so much of the beauty came from being allowed to touch what he hid from the rest of the world.

She trailed down his bicep and splayed her hand. It would take two hands to wrap around the muscle. With a soft smile, she traced the veins down his corded forearm and to his long, elegant fingers. Hands of a man who could wield power as much as control it. Love made the fire in her blood burn hotter.

Her hand slipped under the sheets to gently stroke him awake. The need to make soft, quiet love intensified as his body woke up.

A gentle sigh-moan vibrated his chest, although his eye remained closed. "Em," he breathed in a voice thick with sleep. His hand glided under the covers and he cupped his hand over hers, stilling her. "Touch me because I'm yours." His eye fluttered open to look at her with such vulnerable love. And then he pushed down the sheet, surrendering his body for her to explore.

Her heart twisted with the trust and vulnerability her laid at her feet. It'd always been too embarrassing to touch anywhere but the obvious. Sitting up, she sat at his hip and bent her knees up near his shoulder to face him. His arm slipped under her knees and his hand stroked her outer thigh, the contact somehow intimate and tender.

Letting her fingers graze his scarred thighs as she gathered courage, she watched in amazement as his eye drifted shut. Another stroke over his inner thigh and he sighed in relaxation. "Can you feel me?"

"Mm," he hummed in lazy acknowledgment with his eye still closed. "The skin grafts didn't damage much sensation."

She smiled as he found pleasure in not where but in being touched. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mm, just very relaxed," he whispered and his breath hitched when she stroked a little higher.

His lips parted and his back curled in a graceful roll as her fingertips grazed over the lower part of his male anatomy. His arousal grew even though she didn't touch him there. The magnificent curvature of his broad chest rose and fell with deep breaths of heightened pleasure.

"This pleases you?" she whispered in the dark to not shatter the intimate moment.

"It pleases me to have my wife touch me." Passion darkened his blue eye hooded with desire.

Butterflies flitted in her belly. Draping herself over his chest, she cupped his sound cheek as her lips met his.

He tasted of honey as his tongue led the dance. Laying a hand against his poor throat burns, she helped stroke when he'd swallow, perhaps aiding so he wouldn't choke from being on his back. At the same time, gravity helped his lip. He'd never been able to kiss this long, and it was intoxicating. But it also broke her heart - it made the partial tongue and throat paralysis from the fire more noticeable.

His hands roamed her back in a sensual massage that laced with need to press her body to his. Those elegant fingers slid up her nightgown until she sat back, straddling his thigh, and pulled it over her head.

He sat up to follow, holding her gaze as she reached for the lip bandage. When she raised onto her knees, offering him her breast, she cradled his head as he took her in his mouth. Her nails raked his back as pleasure that shouldn't have been this intense mounted. His moan of pleasure fueled the need to have him.

When his hand stroked the fire, she clung to him, pressing her cheek to his to hold onto him as he took her down from the surface of crashing waves to drown in the sea of gentle desire.

She straddled him to make love as he caressed in soft strokes, suspending the afterglow.

"A condom, sweetheart," he panted, his eye dilated black with desire. At some point he'd replaced the lip bandage.

"You don't need to worry about that, Jay." She eased down to distract him from asking why, the fit tight from the hormones probably swelling everything. Almost to the point of being uncomfortable.

"Oh god, Emma," he moaned. "Stop, don't squeeze like that - I won't last for you." His head fell back with the intensity of pleasure.

"You already satisfied me," she breathed against his lips. "I want to pleasure you." Then she did tighten.

A strangled moan and his lips crushed in a passionate kiss as he cupped her bottom and pulled her closer, filing her completely. "Touch me while I'm part of you," he whispered and nipped her bottom lip. "You don't know the pleasure your touch brings me."

Pulling back for a moment, she searched his eye in concern. The emotional desire to be carressed seemed to overpower the pain from the scars. "You must tell me if it hurts too much," she whispered.

That beautiful blue eye locked with hers. "Light pain can be perceived as pleasure if it's gentle enough. It's the only way I can feel your touch. You won't hurt me, Emma."

So she raised a hand and gave a slow, gentle stroke down his warped cheek, using the amount of pressure that he'd once said caused the least pain. As he cupped her hand, as if to help feel her, his eye fluttered closed as he leaned into it. "Does it frighten you at night?" he whispered and his eye opened to hold her gaze. But he didn't look afraid of her answer this time, almost like he trusted that it wouldn't be fear of him but only uneasiness with the flesh. It was peaceful to be this open with him.

She shook her head. He trusted every word to be truth, and so it would be. "The firelight casts more shadows, making the scars look more painful. I fear hurting you, not what I see." Slowing tracing two fingers over his brow where an eyebrow should've been over the empty socket, she stroked to sooth the damaged muscle that twitched from confused stimulation. It calmed and the slightly pinched look of discomfort at the corner of his eye fled. His hand let go to rest on her hip as he let her explore. The moment she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his brow, his breathing quickened.

"You do not frighten me," she breathed and brushed a kiss over his temple. His heart under her hand beat faster. "And your scars do not frighten me." A kiss to his crushed cheekbone and his eye fluttered shut as his hands tightened on her hips. "These have made you a better man - they make you more beautiful." Her lips over the nearly nonexistent jawline as her thumb stroked across his lips. His throat convulsed in a hard swallow as his heart thundered. "You let only me touch..." She held onto his shoulders, leaned around to the nub that was left of his poor ear, and whispered in a low hum that he'd be able to hear, "And that trust arouses me."

"Oh god," he gasped, his body coiling around her as if he fought release. It seemed to pass and he rolled to be on top of her, keeping his body joined with hers. Desire dilated his eye as he looked down at her. "I can't be gentle when you say things like that." Restless power coiled in his muscles as he leaned up on his hands. "I want you too much. Let me take you hard and fast, my Emma."

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she smiled and pulled him down onto his elbows, shifting him to take the pressure off her sensitive womb. His blood had grown too hot, and his rambunctiousness might hurt the baby. She bit her bottom lip with a smile and buried her hands in her hair over the pillow, feeling unusually sexy. "Only slow and gentle." Then she turned and smiled over her shoulder.

Desire flared in his eye, seeming quite happy with the compromise. "God save me, you're too much," he growled but turned her over, pinning her wrists overhead as he kissed. "You don't want me enough yet."

"Oh?" She smiled as he slid down her body, sprinkling kisses until she squirmed for more. When he joined her again, he sank in and rocked so very gently as he kissed that it brought great pleasure without any discomfort or risk to the baby.

She curled up on his chest afterwards, the gentle drumming of his heart so soothing as she stared into the firelight. It had been such beautiful lovemaking, perhaps more precious than the wedding night for how deeply he'd opened up tonight. The baby shouldn't be kept a secret from him, even if in the end it'd mean pain - but it was pain that he deserved to get through together rather than finding out after the fact. "Jay? I wanted to wait to tell you so you don't get your hopes up. I went to the doctor yesterday because I haven't been feeling right. She did a pregnancy test. It came back positive, but I'm scared it - " She raised up to look at him.

His eye remained closed, fast asleep.

After waking him up once already, it wouldn't be right to wake him up again and make him tired tomorrow. With a sigh of disappointment, she laid her head down on his chest again and let the hypnotic flickering of the fire lure in sleep.

* * *

She darted out of her office for the fourth time the next morning to go to the bathroom. For not even being a few ounces, the baby sure felt like ten pounds on the bladder. Luckily, Henrietta thought it great fun to keep visiting the bathroom. When she opened the guest bathroom door across from her office, Jason stood on the other side.

"Are you alright? The floorboard outside your office has squeaked several times this morning." His brow furrowed and he set a hand on her forehead.

"I'm fine, just drinking a lot." She bit her lip and brushed his hand away. Telling him like this wasn't ideal. Tonight in bed where it was private and intimate.

He frowned. "Em, you don't have to embarrassed about anything. If you want, I'll leave a cup in the lab and you can return it there. If it tests positive for a urinary tract infection, I'll give you meds and we don't have to talk about it. If it's negative, you can pretend it didn't happen. UTIs are common in women after intercourse. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

He was so sweet. If only he'd said that a couple days ago. With hot cheeks, she shook her head. "Thank you, but it's not an infection. I'm fine."

The man heaved a sigh of defeat. "If this isn't better in a couple days, we're testing. I'll take Henrietta for the afternoon being I'm done with conference calls."

With a kiss on Henrietta's cheek, she handed the girl over and went back to her office.

The baby must be fine because the symptoms didn't let up all afternoon either. Maybe one of his lab machines tested hormone levels. Pete might know how to run it. Opening her door at half past three, she peeked out. Empty. Stepping over the traitor floorboard, she tiptoed upstairs.

She dug through the cupboards. Antibiotics, steroids, eye meds, pain killers, bandages, sutures, IVs...goodness, he was ready for a World War.

"Em?"

She startled and knocked several bottles onto the counter.

He walked over and helped put them back. Henrietta must be down for her nap. The man pressed something into her hand. A lab cup.

"But - "

"Acht." He held up a hand. "Just go. We don't have to talk about it. An infection can spread to the kidneys and cause organ damage. I'll leave so you can put it on the counter when you're done." He turned to go.

"Jay?"

The man turned.

"Um, what kind of blood panels do your machines do?"

His brow knit and he came closer. "What's going on?"

Oh dear, too late to fake a UTI. But being this close...getting a level result would at least let them know if it was still a viable pregnancy so far or if a miscarriage had started. Biting her lip, she met his eye. "As in hormones."

"Emma - "

It would spare him so much grief if he at least knew from the start that the baby wasn't taking. One simple number to compare it to the doctor's test. "Please, Jay, no questions right now. Do you have a test that gives number results?"

Worry creased the corner of his eye. "If there's something going on, you need to see a physician - "

"Jay. Please." She swallowed hard.

He looked scared and worried. "What kind of hormone test?"

"Can you just show me where they are? I'll tell you what's going on after - I don't want you worried about nothing."

A choked half-bark and half-laugh burst out, and stress touched every line of his face. "Too late for that - you're scaring the shit out of me." He ran a hand through his hair when she didn't offer any words. "You made me promise to see a physician if something was wrong. You are held to the same terms - "

"I did yesterday." God, this wasn't going well.

He flung up his hands and then set one on his hip and the other over his mouth for a moment like he didn't know whether to cry or scream. . "We promised to not keep medical things a secret - "

"I know. I wanted to know if it's bad news before I told you."

"If what's bad news?!" He flung out his hands, terror glinting in his eye. "You can't demand a hormone panel and say you were at the doctor and might have bad news, but expect me to just run it without question! You're my wife, and I have a right to know if you're sick!" He shouted, fear driving his temper. "Who did you see? An endocrinologist, a primary, an oncologist? Give me something!"

"I didn't mean for you to find out beforehand. I didn't want to tell you and then have to turn around and say things went wrong after all." Tears welled.

Tears shimmered in his eye and his voice quivered as he took her hands. "I'm begging you. What do they think is wrong?" Agony and grief and terror filled his eye. His hands even shook.

She swallowed hard. It wasn't fair to leave him this terrified. "It's not me - I'm fine." Relief swept through his face but so did confusion. "I haven't been feeling right and went to the doctor thinking I had a UTI. She found something else, but levels are on the low side of normal. It's too soon to tell what will happen."

"Are you pregnant?" A different kind of concern replaced the fear in his gaze.

"The doctor thinks so. Hormone levels should double every day or two. The symptoms aren't the same as last time. I wanted to know first so I could tell you if there's a baby or if it's already dying." A tear fell.

"Oh, Em." He crushed her in a hug. "Don't you ever, ever try to deal with this on your own. Just because you carry the baby doesn't mean you have to handle any of this by yourself."

The relief of him finally knowing made the story at the doctor's office pour out.

A deep frown tugged his lips. "Love, you should've called me to sit with you while you waited for the results. Were you afraid to call? An STI from him wouldn't have been your fault." He stroked her hair.

Dropping her gaze to his chest, she shook her head and swallowed hard, the memories of the fear hitting home. "I knew you wouldn't be angry..."

"But?" He ducked his head to catch her eye. Gentle patience reflected in his expression.

"It wouldn't have been right to make you wait too to see if I infected you."

"Emma," he sighed and hugged tight. "There's no shame in it, and you shouldn't be alone while waiting for something like that. You were tested and given precautionary treatment when it happened. Transmission would've been unintentional. I know that, sweetheart. Even if something showed up now, we get treatment and we'll deal with it together, whether one or both of us caught it." He kissed her hair and still held tight. "Do you still want to check hormone levels? For your peace of mind? Just because they're going up now isn't a promise that they'll stay up, though."

She nodded against his shoulder, holding fistfuls of the back of his shirt. "Jay?"

"Yes, love?" His hand stroked up and down her back in a soothing rhythm.

"All the books and websites say it's okay to make love, but maybe it's a high-risk pregnancy. What if we hurt the baby?"

He lifted and set her on the counter. Then he stood between her legs at eye level and cupped her face in his hands. "Early miscarriages happen, sweetheart. Not your age, health, or anything so far makes this a high-risk pregnancy. We made love a few nights ago, and that didn't cause any bleeding or anything, right? I didn't get rough with you last night or do anything that should disturb a healthy pregnancy. If a miscarriage happens, it's because something was extremely wrong, not because of what you did or didn't do."

She nodded.

"Now, as far as the hormone test, it's not necessarily every day or two that it doubles. It can take four days. We aren't going to look at numbers, just if it climbed higher. Low end of normal could be just fine for the baby. Higher doesn't necessarily mean better." He gave a firm look. " _I_ look at the number - I don't want you fretting. Stress isn't good for the baby."

"Promise you'll say if you're worried it didn't go up enough?"

"We will call the OB if there's any uncertainty," he promised.

Bouncing her knee, she stared blankly at the computer screen in her office. Fifteen minutes for the test results. Jason had the previous lab results on her phone upstairs. She glanced at the clock. It'd been twenty-five minutes. He'd probably kicked her out after the blood draw so he could call the OB and discuss his worries without her hearing.

She kissed Henrietta's curls as the love chewed on an animal cracker in her lap.

Jason walked in with a smile, making a beeline straight for her. He pecked a kiss on her lips and knelt beside the chair. "Levels jumped quite a bit for only twenty-four hours later."

Tears of relief burned and spilled over. "So the baby's okay right now?"

He nodded, the grin splitting his face as he stroked her hair, his own eye misty. "I called the OB - just to be safe - and asked how the exam went. She said you're textbook perfect. She said you have an ultrasound appointment in two weeks?"

"Oh! I forgot to tell you!" A smile bloomed. "It's actually in ten days to check how old the baby is. She thinks probably a Fourth of July baby."

His heart visibly melted. "She was conceived around my birthday? Last year I got you for my birthday and this year Henrietta and a baby..." He brushed at his eye. "We get to see her in a couple weeks..." His lips pressed together and his eye grew red rimmed as he turned his head away for a moment.

"Jay?" She set a hand on his shoulder in concern. He must be afraid of losing another pregnancy.

"I was so sca,scared..." His lip quivered and chest heaved as he tried to speak. But his face crumpled. "That..that something was wrong with you." And he fell apart. Raising onto his knees, he crushed her in a hug and clung. It was one of the few times ever seeing him sob.

"I'm sorry." She held onto Henrietta and wrapped the other arm around him, stroking his hair. "I wanted to tell you right away if you shouldn't get excited. I'm alright, Jay. Shhhhh. I'm alright, honey."

It took several minutes for him to calm down. He released a shaky breath as she dug out his handkerchief and dabbed away his tears. "I'm excited, I just got overwhelmed with that." He sniffled and smiled when Henrietta took the handkerchief and shoved it at his eye to help. "Thank you, poppet." Then he eased it out of her little hand. Then his eye searched hers. "The baby will be alright this time, Emma." He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "We're in this together."

She nodded and cupped his hand on her cheek. "Are you coming to the ultrasound?" Nerves fluttered. If the doctor found that it was a miscarriage and Jason wasn't there with her...

"Of course I'm coming." He held her eyes. "I'm coming for every appointment. But everything will be alright. You don't worry about anything - let me do the worrying. By the time the baby is due, you'll want to lock me in the dungeon so you can have some peace." He cracked a smile.

A hesitant laugh bubbled up.

"We get to see the baby next week and soon after hear the heartbeat." His hand remained on her cheek as he stroked her belly. "I'll be chasing you all over to hear the heartbeat with my stethoscope and taking pictures of you growing more gorgeous each day. You'll have your own paparazzi stalker," he teased, his eye twinkling.

That won an earnest laugh. She leaned forward and kissed him. Everything would be alright.


	21. Chapter 21

The dank, musty smell combined with a damp chill made goosebumps skitter - not from cold but the eeriness. She followed the light down the stairwell down underground. Jason must be in his workshop. He seemed so preoccupied the past two weeks, often disappearing for hours at a time. Maybe this was where he went each evening. The buzz of a saw. She froze. Her heart shot into her throat. If it wasn't Jason, going alone wasn't a wise move. Then a soft Scottish lullabye in a deep baritone floated through the air. The nervousness flitted away and her heart melted. Tiptoeing past the creepy dungeon cells, she peeked into his workshop. And her heart twisted.

Jason wore a breathing mask and the plastic burn mask and worked some type of wood shaving tool. In the middle of the small workroom, a few strips of wood laid out on the floor - in the layout of what appeared to be a crib. Pencil sketches on what must be the headboard created a mosaic of roses. His deep baritone fell to a soft hum as he fitted the board to another.

But Henrietta... It was so sweet and wonderful that he wanted to make the baby a crib, but Henrietta would be hurt when she grew older and realized that he favored the baby. She set a hand on the doorframe to leave so as not to disturb him, but her ring clunked against the wood.

He looked up and set down the wood. Then he walked over and pulled off the masks, leaving only the lip bandage in place. "Em, you shouldn't be breathing in the saw dust." His hand wrapped around her arm and he ushered her back toward the staircase. The man seemed so distracted lately...like he waited for the worst too. Even in bed he seemed to avoid physical contact - not even cuddling to sleep.

"Are you making a crib?" She searched his face for some kind of clue. Maybe he wasn't happy about the timing of the baby, but then again he wouldn't be making a crib if so.

"No, a bed for Henrietta." His profile held little expression as he took her up the steps.

For Henrietta? A pang of sadness hit. "Oh." So he wasn't excited about the baby.

A firm hand rested on the small of her back as he took her upstairs. "A crib is far more complicated, so figured I'd start with her bed."

Stopping on the stairs, she spun around with a smile. "You're making both of them beds?"

A frown marred his face. "Should I not?"

"No, it's just very sweet." She searched his eye, his face again impassive. Her smile faded as she set a hand over her belly. "Are you mad about the baby?"

His eyebrow shot up and then his brow knit. "Why would I be angry?" His hands rested over hers. "No. Let's go up - you standing on the stairs makes me nervous."

So she turned and went up. And almost ran into Bobby around the corner of the door. Her stomach dropped but it was too late to spin around and stop Jason from coming without the mask. Jason ran into her back at the sudden halt.

Bobby stumbled back a step, fear flickering in his eye for a split moment before a sneer masked it. "So the monster emerges from the sewers."

Whether from hormones or outrage for Jason or both, anger exploded. Jason had put up with so much from this little punk. THe words exploded. "Get in your room!" Her shout echoed through the hall.

Bobby snickered. Jason stepped forward. The snickering ceased but Bobby raised his chin to Jason in challenge.

"She said go to your room." Jason's low growl held an undertone of steel.

"You're not my father!" Bobby's hands fisted at his sides. In a heartbeat, Jason pushed between her and Bobby. That act of protection seemed to outrage the boy. He beat on Jason's chest with the backs of his fists. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

The thuds echoed with hard, hollow pounds through Jason's chest, but he let the boy scream out his anger for a couple seconds. Then he grabbed Bobby's fists and jerked the boy into his arms, locked in a hug that this man-child so desperately needed.

Bobby froze in shock. And then burst into sobs. He shoved himself away from Jason and ran upstairs.

When a deep sigh released from Jason, she stepped around to check what damage those hard hits had done. "He'll come around, Jay." Ignoring his dry look, she quietly unbuttoned his shirt. Light steps came from the left like one of the younger children's footsteps. She spun around to stop whoever it was from seeing his scars, but the footsteps continued on to the kitchen. She turned back around. Jason was gone.

He didn't appear for dinner and couldn't be found anywhere. Bobby, thankfully, kept silent during the meal.

* * *

Nibbling her lip, she ascended the stairs and turned on a warm shower in her own bedroom. Jason would come in time - he'd probably been spooked by the boy.

Peeling off her clothes, she stood before the mirror and turned. No sign of a baby bump yet, but her breasts did look a bit fuller. She grazed a hand up. They certainly did seem more sensitive. How strange to have something so small take over a body. Letting a hand fall, she cupped her belly and smiled. Hmm...maybe a tiny bit of a bump from water weight.

"It'll be so beautiful watchin' ye grow w' child," a deep baritone with a Scottish lilt floated in.

Spinning around in surprise, she tucked her hands up against her chest and under her chin. A flush of embarrassment crept up. "I didn't know you were there."

He stepped from the shadows into the bathroom light, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe in a lazy, confident manner. The mask covered his scars but a slight smile touched his lips. "Ye wouldn't 'ave let me see ye discoverin' yer body growin' w' bairn." He said it so intimately in a husky voice that the flush grew. As he reached out and lowered her hands without letting go, his eye trailed up, as if taking his time drinking in the sight. "Dunna hide yer body from me."

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and pleasure. "You shouldn't look at me like that - I'm on my way to being huge and unable to move and probably many gross things happening." Andy's words came back, as well as other knowledge from pregnancy books like stretch marks and temporary skin pigment changes and intestinal disruptions... He'd stay Dr. Hottie while she metamorphasized into a whale.

His eyebrow cocked and his hands slipped into his pockets in a suave, rakish manner. "Ye won't be huge or 'ave gross things 'appen. Ye be growin' a strong bairn. _Perhaps_ ye will 'ave some side effects from pregnancy. Either way, Ah did this ta ye, and Ah'll be here ta help and be supportive."

Dear heaven, the smoldering look in his eye should've left nothing behind but a pile of ashes. Her heart beat faster. The man knew the affect his accent had. The room grew far too warm. "Are you going to shower or gawk?" That would snap him out of it.

"Gawk." He didn't seem the least bit ashamed of it either.

She blinked and a flush crept up. "A bit arrogant, Dr. Port?" But a smile still tugged. Turning, she switched on the shower. Fine, the man could gawk and suffer for it.

"Nay, Ah'm a bit patient, Mrs. Port. Ah prefer ta have ye warm 'n damp from t' shower."

Snapping straight, her head whipped around to him. Desire burned hot in his eye. She swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than give herself to him. "Not in the first trimester. It's - "

"It's safe as long as it doesn't hurt ye an' Ah'm gentle. We made love before we knew t' bairn was there."

True. Her cheeks burned at the memories of how much more enjoyable the hormones made it.

"Ah'm not suffering one more night. Yer wastin' water."

She got in, closed the shower curtain, and frowned. "Is that why you won't cuddle?" A deep sigh released and she closed her eyes to relax under the warm water. A low growl seemed to be his answer. Without opening her eyes, she washed her hair and then opened her eyes to find the soap. And jumped. He watched with the curtain open. "Jason!"

He leaned a shoulder against the wall, his accent growing thicker by the minute. "Tell me that you don't like me desiring you, and I'll go. It's been far too long since I've watched my wife bathe. And I enjoy this self-inflicted torture."

"I will never understand why you like to watch. But you have to take off your clothes." She picked up the washrag.

A hearty laugh burst out of him. "And how is that different from me watching?" He straightened and undressed.

She stepped closer and eased off the mask. When he set it on the counter and then looked at her in question, she took his hand and pulled him in. Then she pressed the rag into his hand and looked up from beneath her lashes, too shy to outright ask him.

Tenderness and intimacy flared in his gaze, and he lathered the rag without breaking eye contact. His head lowered and a kiss brushed over her lips as he stepped under the water, pressing the hard planes if his body to her.

The rag carressed down the curve of her spine, creating shivers of desire. She set her hands on his chest and tilted her head back as he deepened the kiss. Her heart pounded. The room dipped. The moment she pulled back, his arms tightened around her.

"Are you alright?" The Scottish accent faded.

Clutching his shoulders for support, she took a deep breath. "Dizzy. It's getting better."

He cupped the back of her head and eased her cheek to rest on his chest. "I didn't intend to make you swoon," he said, a smile in his voice. "With the extra blood volume from the baby, it'll take your body some time to adjust to properly regulating your blood pressure."

"You couldn't just keep it romantic and not add that last part?" A smile tugged.

"The downfall of marrying a doctor, love. Warm water isn't doing you any favors with not fainting either." He turned it down just enough that shivers took over. "Just for a moment."

It did make her legs feel stronger. Then he ran the rag over her quick, all business like taking care of a patient. Her heart fell. His desire even waned. He may not view her as a whale the next seven months, but this certainly didn't make him view her as something sexual. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for. I should've thought about it that you might get dizzy." He shut off the water and then grabbed the towel and dried her off. "We'll dry you off so you can get some sleep."

Tears burned. Long-forgotten feelings returned - of what it felt like to be treated like a fragile China doll by everyone after the rape. Jason now saw her as a delicate thing that shouldn't be desired. The physical changes from pregnancy would feed that self-consciousness enough without this now too.

He wiped himself down fast and then scooped her up and tucked her into bed. His fingers touched the pulse under her jaw like some kind of invalid. "Go to sleep, sweetheart." Then his lips pressed to her forehead. He finished up in the bathroom and then climbed in bed. Not touching again.

She rolled away. And the tears slipped down.

* * *

The next morning, she opened her eyes. To an empty bed. Her head still ached from crying herself to sleep last night. Pushing herself up, she shuffled into the bathroom.

Of course he had left already. Jerking the hairbrush drawer open, she slammed things around and yanked the comb through her hair. It was his fault that she'd have stretch marks and puked five times a day and would get fat. Opening the medicine cabinet, she snatched out her toothbrush and flung the door shut. God forbid he cuddle or kiss or be affectionate if it didn't prelude to sex. The tears welled. He'd promised to not bail out and yet two weeks into it he had. He probably would have some kind of excuse for not coming to the ultrasound today. The tears poured out as she opened the door and ran straight into him.

"My apologies..." He caught her upper arms. "Why are you crying?"

Shoving his hands away, she stepped back with a bitter laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, is that another thing I'm doing wrong?" she snapped and stepped around him.

"What? I don't know what what's going on. I came to wake you to get ready for the ultrasound appointment - "

So he wasn't going. Anger and hurt exploded. Irrational emotions surged out of control, the most prevalent being terrified loneliness that hadn't been felt in so many years. "I'll stay in my room the next seven months!"

His eyebrow shot up. "Is this some pregnancy hormone outburst?"

"What?!" The word came out in a shriek. Snatching the pillow nearby, she hurled it at him.

He caught it, his eye wide, and then he scowled. "What the hell?!"

Grabbing her purse, she dug out the car keys as she stormed to the door, dashing at the tears to see clearly.

"Where are you going?"

"To the doctor!" Alone. When this should be a special day with him. The moment she opened the door, his hand pressed it shut and he whirled her around. His hands cupped her cheeks. She pulled back and pushed his hands away.

"Stop," he pleaded, the sadness in his tone making her pause. He didn't touch even though he clearly wanted to hold the door shut. "I don't know if I'm a clueless ass or if we have a misunderstanding, but I'm sorry. I thought I was being a good husband. Don't punish me by going to the ultrasound without me." A note of begging tinted his voice. He swallowed hard and his eye grew misty like he expected her to walk out.

She stilled and sniffled, the emotions simmering down. "Don't pretend now that you want to go. You've been avoiding me for two weeks - "

His eyebrow snapped toward the middle of his forehead. "I wasn't trying to avoid you. You have so much morningsickness that I'm trying to take care of the children so you don't have to, and then there's Henrietta's bed to finish after work so I'll have time to figure out how to make a crib. You get nauseous if I even turn over in bed. The last thing you'd want is me climbing on you." He ran a hand through his hair in distress. "Yesterday you seemed to be doing better, so I was a greedy bastard and tried touching you but made you sick. The books say to just leave you alone the first trimester."

Her heart melted, and she burst into tears. So, he wasn't trying to be a jerk.

"I'm sorry - " He didn't move at first when she flung herself into his arms. "Em?"

"I thought you didn't want to touch me anymore."

He held tight and cradled her head on his shoulder. "No, no, sweetheart. I don't touch you because I don't want to make you nauseous or feel like I'm expecting something. And I don't trust myself to touch you."

She leaned back to look up at him. "What?"

That blue eye held so much tenderness as he brushed away her tears with his handkerchief. "Just knowing that you're carrying my baby drives me crazy."

Her eyebrow cocked.

The man slipped her hand between his legs, proving his point.

It had to be the hormones because him wanting her _because_ of being pregnant was so hot. She grabbed his shirtfront and jerked him down for a kiss as she unbuttoned his white shirt.

He grunted in protest and lifted his head. "Aren't you nauseous this morning?"

She shook her head. "It usually doesn't hit until late morning."

"Oh sweet Jesus, thank you," he sighed in prayer and then helped her tear off his clothes between kisses. "Emma, I've needed you for so long." He wrapped her hand around his manhood and pressed her up against the bedpost, cupping her face in his hands during a passionate kiss.

"Jay, we have to leave in twenty minutes." She let go and tugged up her shirt.

"Plenty of time." Then he helped free her in a frenzy, hefted her onto his hips and sank in before she could even register it. A deep moan of satisfaction and his body melted against her.

She panted and held onto his shoulders tight. "Need me bad?"

"So bad. Oh god, Emma, this is wonderful." He nuzzled her neck, seeming to enjoy just being one.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as her body suddenly coiled, as if registering the union. She clutched a fistful of his hair as everything spiraled. "Jay," she gasped at the intensity of it.

"I love you." He whispered the words in her ear and laid her on the bed without letting go. "Let me see you find pleasure in me." It couldn't have been stopped even if she wanted.

Minutes later, he pressed a kiss to the baby. "You're still trembling." The arrogant man slid up beside her in bed and brushed a kiss over her lips.

"Hormones aided your score, so don't get cocky." She ran her fingers through his silky hair, still too tired to move anything else.

He grinned, the contrast with the frozen side of his face no longer quite as heartbreaking. "I'll take it. Out of curiosity...what _is_ my score?"

She smiled and stretched, half purring. "Mmm...your ego doesn't need to know."

"Oh, I took a pillow to the face for nothing! I get to know." He slid on top again.

Her legs straddled his hips and she flushed. "It was a moment of pregnancy insanity. Make love to me again and I'll tell you."

The man chuckled. "You spent me. Tell me, did I please you?" His hand slid down between them.

"I guess."

His eyebrow rose. "You guess?" His hand shifted and his mouth captured her breast. "Be vocal for me."

She gasped at what he did and grabbed handfuls of the sheets as her back arched. "I'm sure everyone heard," she panted and writhed. "I - " His hand shifted and the whole mountain probably heard the next few minutes.

* * *

"You could've said it'd be an internal ultrasound," she whispered in the doctor's office as he helped her put on a gown.

"I thought you knew the baby isn't big enough to do an abdominal ultrasound." The man didn't sound one bit remorseful as he folded up her clothes.

Cramps since this morning caused a backache, not helping the stress. "You knew I wouldn't have agreed to sex if I would've known this. If the doctor asks, _you_ can explain we just had sex." She kept her voice low and threw him a look.

"I hope these hormones level out soon." The man muttered it under his breath and offered a hand to help her up on the table.

She folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow. "You're more than welcome to do this instead. Let's start with jamming an ultrasound wand up you." Her hands shook yet since finding out that the female OB was out sick and a male was doing the appointment. The nurse had told her about it on the way to the bathroom to leave a sample. Jason was here, but the demons in the dark corners of the room lurked.

He released a deep breath. "Em, you've been biting my head off since we got here." He took her hand and helped her up on the table. Then he frowned. "You're shaking. Are you frightened of the ultrasound? It won't hurt - "

A knock at the door and then a young, husky man entered - who had a complexion not unlike Gaston. "Hello, I'm Dr. Johnson."

Jason frowned. "Where's Dr. Sanderson?"

"She's ill today, so I'm filling in." The man smiled and offered a handshake.

Jason stepped a little closer and set a hand on her knee, as if he realized why she'd been upset. "Dr. Johnson, my wife needs a female physician. Or at least a female ultrasound technician."

The doctor blinked and his eyes narrowed on Jason like he thought him some kind of controlling husband. "We have neither, but a female nurse will be present for the exam."

Her heart raced and breathing threatened to hyperventilate. Something slipped into her hand and Jason glanced over his shoulder. She looked down. She must've grabbed his hand. Her other clutched a fistful of the drape over her lap.

Jason turned around and held her gaze. "We'll reschedule," he promised.

"Am I missing something?" The doctor looked baffled.

He turned but didn't let go of her hand. "She was assaulted five years ago. It so happens that you also somewhat resemble him. I don't think it wise to put her through the exam."

The doctor nodded. "Of course. I imagine Dr. Sanderson will be back in a week - she has the stomach flu and it seems to be a long-term one going around this year. I'll have the nurse reschedule. You don't have any bleeding or cramping?"

She glanced at Jason, who looked concerned that she hesitated. Her face burned and she looked at the doctor, struggling to meet his eyes that looked so much like Gaston's. "I read that cramping and spotting after intimacy are normal?"

"It can be. How long ago was intercourse?" He asked so matter of fact.

"This morning," Jason answered, not seeming any more embarrassed than the doctor.

"As long as they're not painful and go away soon, that's normal. Are you having any other symptoms? Morningsickness, headaches, swollen ankles...?"

"Morningsickness. About five times a day, but if I avoid food around certain times, I can keep meals down."

He smiled, his face holding kindness that had never been present in Gaston's. "Good. Your temp and blood pressure were normal, so just call if the cramping doesn't go away. I'll send a nurse in to reschedule."

"Is it bad to wait a week?" Something about the gentleness in his face prompted the question.

"No, it's not harmful. The closer to eight weeks we do the ultrasound, the more accurate the due date. We like to check that everything is proceeding normally with development." He glanced at the computer screen next to him. "I see there was a positive pregnancy test a few months ago. Was that ever diagnosed if it was a chemical pregnancy, molar...?"

"No. We called when she started bleeding. Dr. Sanderson advised to just keep an eye on her with the bleeding." Jason sounded concerned. "Should she have come in?"

"No, not if it was early." He scanned through the screen. "How early?"

"Six or seven weeks." Jason set his other hand on her leg, as if he worried. His eye remained locked on the doctor.

The doctor nodded and then looked at her. A bone-chilling shiver ran through and suddenly Gaston stood there. Her heart stopped. The doctor looked back at her. Blinking, she looked at Jason to the right.

"...it," Jason said. Then he looked at her expectantly, worry and fear overflowing in his eye.

"Alright?" a deep voice said to the immediate left.

She startled hard, her head snapping around to see the doctor right there. Jason's grip was the only thing that kept her from falling off the table.

Jason's arm wrapped around. "It's alright, sweetheart."

Her heart pounded as he laid her back. When the doctor stepped closer on the left, every muscle tensed. Pure panic seized. She shot upright. Jason's arms caught her as black spots appeared.

"Emma," he said in a low, soothing tone that hadn't been heard in over a year...in the patient, calm tone from flashback days. "Emma, can you hear me? You..."

His words faded out as ringing took over. She eyed Gaston...er, the doctor. Her chest heaved trying to drag in air. Jason pressed her shoulders down, his mouth moving but no words coming. Oh god. They were going to do the ultrasound. He was going to let Gaston...

His hands cupped her face, forcing her to meet his gaze and his voice crept back in. "No one is going to harm you. I'm right here and won't let anyone hurt you. You're pale and need to lie down for a moment. Deep breath." He breathed for her to follow.

The trembling made it more like gasping for air. It made it to hard to speak. Tears rolled down.

Jason nodded at Gaston, who left. His eye dove in to where it was safe in a world of just the two of them. "He's gone."

"No ultrasound." Her face crumpled.

His brow furrowed. "No, no ultrasound. Your mother said she had placenta previa with you and that's why she had to have the hysterectomy. Dr. Johnson said it can be genetic and can start as early as eight weeks. There's a female OB I've worked with in California whom we call out when we have prenatal cardiac cases. She's excellent and would likely do better than Dr. Sanderson."

The blood drained and the fear of the doctor was replaced with fear for the baby. That's why Jason was scared - for her and for the baby. Wrapping her hands around his wrists, she searched his eyes. Tears welled. "Can they fix placenta previa now?"

"With bedrest and as your uterus grows, the placenta should shift away from the cervix. If this is even a problem, we will monitor it closely. The good news is it's an uncommon condition, so it may not even be an issue. Let's go home."

She didn't let go of his wrists when he moved to get her clothes. When he looked at her in question, she whispered, "Thank you." It would mean expense and time and him owing someone a favor to have to go to California for a simple ultrasound. But he didn't discredit the fear or push for just doing it here.

"You have done much more than this for me, sweetheart." He pulled free and brought over the clothes.

"Are you able to do the ultrasound?"

He shook his head. "I've never done prenatal. Ultrasound can heat up tissue, so I'd rather not risk causing the baby damage because I don't know what I'm doing. I can promise that if you need an echocardiogram, I can do that." He winked and handed her the shirt.

His smile swept away all the demons from the room.

* * *

"There's the head." The doctor pointed to a little circle on the ultrasound screen the next afternoon.

Tears of joy welled as she held Jason's hand.

"Everything looks good?" His eye darted between the doctor and the screen and back.

The older woman smiled, her eyes not leaving the screen. "We just started, Jason. Hold on."

He looked down and stroked her hair from her brow. "Are you alright? Does it hurt?"

She smiled. "I'm fine. Settle down."

"There's the heart beating." The doctor pointed to a tiny flickering on the screen. A tiny heart that beat so fast and perfect.

Her hand tightened in Jason's as she choked on a soft sob. Their baby.

He sank into the chair beside her as the doctor pointed out the tiny stubs for arms and legs. The moment the doctor clicked the button to make the heartbeat audible, Jason sniffled. She turned her head to him. A tear fell from his lashes and he met her eyes, pressing a kiss to her hand in his. Then he stood and kissed her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you." She took the handkerchief that he offered to dry her eyes.

"I think this is a first of Dad crying as much as Mom." The doctor smiled. Jason's cheek turned pink, but he just smiled, seeming too high on Cloud Nine to care. "Baby looks good and measures at eight weeks and five days. So, July first is the due date. Sometimes first babies comes late, so a Fourth of July baby is still possible."

Jason beamed. "No, she should have her own special day." He brushed a kiss over her lips and then brushed at his eye. "Everything looks good?"

"The baby looks good, no placenta previa, the cervix looks good..." But her smile grew strained as she looked at the screen.

"What's wrong?" Jason demanded and took her hand like he could protect from anything bad.

The doctor did a measurement and did it again from a different angle. "Good. Nothing, I wasn't sure if her ovary looked a bit small." The doctor looked at her for a moment. "Ovaries, particularly the one that ovulated, support the pregnancy until the placenta is fully functional by twelve weeks. But you're fine. It measures within normal range."

"You're certain?" he asked and rubbed her arm with his free hand.

She nodded. "Emma and the baby are textbook perfect." The doctor put away the items. "I'll send the tape to your OB, Emma."

Jason helped her sit up. "Thank you, Ruby. It's a relief knowing one of the best said they're alright." He kept a hand on her back and held out his other to the doctor.

The woman shook his hand with a grin. "I owed you one after you gave a second opinion of my grandson's EKG last year." Then the doctor offered her a handshake. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Emma. And congratulations to both of you. I need to get back to rounds."

"Thank you." The minute the doctor left the room, she smiled and held out her arms.

He crushed her in a hug. "My god, Em, I'm so happy I could explode. Are you cramping? Do you feel alright?"

"I'm fine!" She laughed and hugged him. The smile faded as it finally sank in. "We're having a baby. We're not ready for this."

He let out a hoot of excitement and pulled back with a grin. "We are, Em. And everything will be alright." Easing her back, he pulled up her shirt and down the drape to bare her belly. With gentle pressure, he palpated and then took her hand and pressed. A hard ball took shape. "That's the baby - our baby." He looked so happy, and guilt gnawed that she didn't feel like that all the sudden. "What's wrong, Emma?"

She swallowed hard and pulled her hand free. Then she set it over his on her belly and met his eye as tears welled. "I'm scared."

"Of what?" His brow furrowed in concern and he stepped closer, brushing away the tear that escaped the corner of her eye.

"Of everything that the books say can happen, labor and - " She bit her lip to cut off her words. And he'd no longer be able to look at her the same in a couple more months.

"And?" He leaned down to be closer. "I promise that all those things won't happen. You might have some side effects, but just talk to me or the doctor. There are things to help. And you can have an epidural during labor. Women think it's some badge of honor to have natural childbirth, but in the end a baby still comes. I very much prefer you have an epidural so you aren't in pain." He brushed a kiss over her lips. "Tell me what your last concern is, sweetheart."

Her lip quivered. "That you won't ever look at me the same in a few more weeks." It had to be the normones because tears burst free.

"Oh, Em, no, no, no." He slipped an arm under her shoulders and sat her up for a hug. "I need you to trust me. I'm so excited for you to start showing. You are going to look so beautiful. I desire you because I love you." He must've sensed she still wasn't convinced. "Look at us so far - you've been getting sick the past two weeks and I've seen it. I've seen you looking green and biting my head off. But I still wanted you. This morning was amazing, and I very much look forward to a repeat in a few days once we know you and the baby are sound from this poking around." Then he leaned back with a boyish, wicked grin. "And when the baby gets too large, I look forward to being creative in the bedroom."

A watery laugh bubbled out. "You're twisted."

He chuckled. "Maybe, but you'll be glad I am." Then he winked.

Just like that, he chased away all the fears and replaced them with butterflies in her belly. Which, in turn, made her run for the trash can.

The dear man held her hair back and rinsed a papertowel cold with the other hand. When he set it on the back of her neck, the nausea eased. Then he handed her a papertowel to wipe her mouth.

"Sorry. Good way to ruin the moment." She rinsed her mouth, trying to ignore her burning cheeks.

"Love, you need to remember I've seen far worse at the hospital. You don't need to be so worried. You've seen me get sick and didn't stop desiring me. You're beautiful, sweetheart. In another month, you'll feel so much better after the morningsickness fades." He scooped her up and carried her back to the table, but he didn't set her down.

"What are you doing?" She cracked a smile.

He smiled. "It's good for you to feel like a damsel being rescued sometimes. Even if it's only from germs on the floor."

That won a laugh. She laid her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. "Jason, we're supposed to go to the family's for Thanksgiving next week. I think we have to tell Mom and Nana - they'll notice if I'm running to the bathroom every ten minutes."

He grinned and kissed her forehead. "We'll announce the baby at Thanksgiving."


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay - I had this mostly written and then had unexpected minor surgery put me on hold for awhile.**

* * *

She hugged Lydia tight the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.

"I'll be back on Friday. It's okay." Lydia smiled and returned the hug.

"I know." She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. "You call the social worker right away if you need anything. Or you call us and we can call the social worker to go get you."

Lydia smiled and patted her pocket. "I have the cell phone that Dr. Port gave each of us. My mom will probably be too drunk to even realize I'm home." The dear girl shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like having a mother who didn't care that she'd been gone for months didn't bother her - because it'd been the only life she'd known.

She burst into hearty tears for the poor girl.

Jason seemed to notice the hormones making it hard to part with the children, so he slipped his arm around Lydia and guided her toward the door. "She cries a lot from the baby." He gave an empathetic smile and then turned his attention back to Lydia to say goodbye.

She turned to the other children and hugged them. "Use your phones if you have trouble."

"Do I have to go?" The eldest look frightened.

Her brow furrowed. Something in the girl's tone shut off the waterworks for a very serious conversation. She led the girl to the back of the foyer so the other children wouldn't overhear and be scared to go home too. "Are you afraid of your uncle? The social worker says he's out of your parents' house. The locks were changed and - "

The young woman threw her arms around her shoulders and wept. "What if he comes back at night?"

Her heart wrenched. The seventeen-year-old girl had begun to blossom into a very beautiful young woman - certainly not the gangly fifteen-year-old who had been left home. Two years. So long to be away from family, so long to have lived with the fear of this day coming. And so long to become perfectly ripe fruit for the perverted uncle. "It's alright. The social worker will check in, and you call us every ten minutes if you want."

Jason handed off several of the children to the social workers, who were escorting the children to their parents' homes for Thanksgiving. He glanced over his shoulder and his eye narrowed. He approached and set a hand on the girl's back.

She turned and threw herself into his arms. "Dr. Port, don't make me go."

He hugged the young woman, looking so heartbroken himself. "You remember what I taught you this week for self defense?"

"Yes."

"You have the phone on you?"

"Yes," she sniffled.

"Do you have 9-1-1 in your county?"

"Yes."

He set the girl back and looked her in the eyes. "If something happens, you keep your head. I don't care that your parents say to not call the police on your uncle, you do it. There's a restraining order against him to protect you. If you see him or think you see him, you call the police. Then you get somewhere safe and lock yourself in a room."

"But what if he breaks down the door?" The girl burst into hysterical sobs.

A glance at his watch and a hard look swept over his face. "We have fifteen minutes until your ride comes. Upstairs to the gym." He tugged the girl's arm and then led the way.

She linked arms with the girl and followed.

In the exercise room on the wrestling mat, he shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. "Attack me."

The girl blinked. "Right now?" She climbed up anyways.

"A true fight is usually over in less than a minute. We have time. Go." He walked toward the girl. "I'm your uncle. What are you going to do?"

Panic tore through the girl's eyes.

He swung a fist and stopped inches short of her face. "I would've just knocked you out. Don't let me get this close. Remember what I taught you. Again." He walked away but spun all of the sudden and rushed her.

The girl screamed and flung a foot out, her stance perfect. And made solid contact between Jason's legs.

A cry of pain and Jason dropped like a ton of bricks, curled up and holding between his legs.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry! I just reacted!" The girl dropped to her knees and set a hand on his shoulder. "Do you need ice?"

He panted and a string of curses came under his breath. She hurried up on the mat to them. "Yes, get him some ice." Then she took the spot the girl vacated. "Do you need to go to the doctor?"

"Son of a - ." He pushed up onto his hands and knees, gulping air. "Sweet Jesus, I'm gonna die."

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. "You're not vomiting from it, so you must be alright enough."

"Shut up. I'm not in the mood to be a gentleman," he panted, his brow glistening from pain.

When he struggled to sit back against a post, she took his arm and helped pull. "I'm not laughing that you're in pain. Although I think you need to start wearing protection when you teach women self-defense."

The girl ran in with a bag of peas. "Pete said to use this." She handed it over and stood back, her face red with embarrassment and her eyes brimming with concern. "I'm sorry."

"I don't know what you're scared of - _I'm_ scared of _you_." He set the ice on with a groan, closing his eye for a moment. Then he looked at the girl, forcing a tight smile to make her feel better. "I'm going to say goodbye from here. If he comes near you, kick harder than that."

The girl smiled and kissed his cheek. "Thank you. I am a little less scared."

"Good. Glad I won't perish for nothing." He winked, his face still a bit pale.

"I'll walk you to the door." She patted his leg. "Don't die before I'm back, Jay."

When she closed the front door, she turned to see him hobbling down the steps. She frowned and hurried toward him, but he threw a sideways glance at Bobby, the last one waiting in the foyer to be picked up for the holiday. Meeting Jason at the bottom of the steps, she took the bag of peas he held out. "Better?"

"Not really, but I didn't want to be up there alone." In other words, he meant he didn't want her alone with Bobby. He turned to the boy a few feet away, forcing himself to stand straighter. "Are you all packed?'

Bobby met his eye but didn't respond.

"Would you like to say goodbye to anyone?" The man seemed determined to keep giving the boy chances to change. "Trudy and Pete are in the kitchen - "

"Why?" Bobby snorted in disgust. "It's not like I care about anyone here. If they want to say it, they can kiss my - "

"Here." She tossed the bag of peas in his direction when Jason looked ready to explode.

The boy frowned and caught the bag. "What is this for?"

"If you open your mouth at the airport in this holiday traffic, you'll need ice." Someone would surely punch the kid for some smartass remark.

Jason snorted a laugh and suavely masked it as clearing his throat.

Bobby glared and hurled the peas.

She stepped forward and caught the bag before Jason could intercept and bite the boy's head off. "You should play baseball with an arm like that."

Something in Bobby's eyes lit up for a split instant. Then he folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. "You're a dumb bitch if you think I'd wanna play a kid's game."

"Watch your mouth!" Jason snapped as he stepped forward, his face and neck red with rage.

She set a hand on his chest for him to let it go.

Bobby shot to his feet. "Shut the fuck up! You're such an asshole pretending to care about us! I know you get paid by the state to have us here, you goddamn cheap ass!"

Jason's roar ripped out and he thrust a finger at the ground. "Someone had damn better care or you're going to piss your life away!"

"Jason." She said quietly and set a hand on his arm. "He's leaving in a couple minutes. Pete can see him out."

But he didn't seem to hear. The veins in his neck bulged and his face only reddened. "I take that money from the state and put it in accounts for each of you to have for college!" His finger pointed at Bobby. "I goddamn care when a punk-ass kid as intelligent as you doesn't have anyone looking out for him because I used to be you! I know what's coming next! Drugs and crime! You wanna piss on everyone who wants to help and be your family so you can fuck up your life, fine! But you sure as hell aren't doing it under my roof - "

"Fuck you! I won't be here much longer anyways! I'll be back with my dad in a few weeks!"

"You think your father being in anger management for the fifth time is going to stop the punches?! Remember the last time? You were in the hospital in a fucking coma for three days! Yeah, that's a life I'd be rushing back to," Jason spat.

"Screw you! I'm not coming back here! I'll fucking run away and live off the street!"

"Guys!" She held up her hands in the large distance between them. "Enough. Everyone needs to calm down." Jason rarely cursed, much less in front of the children. He finally looked ready to snap.

The doorbell rang.

Bobby ran to the door, knocking Jason's shoulder on the way on purpose.

Jason grit his teeth and gave her a long glare that said he didn't have any patience left for the kid.

"Get in the car, boy."

She turned at the sound of a drunken slur.

Jason spun around and walked over to the door. "Where's the social worker?"

Bobby even stopped in his tracks at the door.

A large-bellied man almost Jason's height stepped in with a glare. "He's comin'. Said for me to take the boy. Is that a problem?" He got in Jason's face.

Jason didn't budge. "Yes, that's a problem. Bobby doesn't leave until the social worker gets here. You're welcome to wait in your car. Bobby will wait in the house."

"He's my boy," the man growled and stepped toe to toe with Jason.

He didn't so much as blink. Unyielding command of a solider hardened his tone. "And he's under my care until the state decides otherwise."

"You son of a bitch," the father seethed. Then he stepped to the side and grabbed Bobby's arm. "Do as I said, boy."

The instant that fear flickered across Bobby's face, Jason glanced at her as if debating what to do.

"No! I'm not going with you!" Bobby yanked his arm free and stepped back. Terror tore through his eyes, as if he suddenly recalled the dangerous consequences of disobeying his father.

Trudy and Pete hurried from the kitchen.

"Get in the car!" The man roared and his fist flew straight for Bobby's face. The force of the fury would've been impossible to stop.

Jason's head snapped back in the next instant.

She blinked in shock and Trudy's scream of fright rang through the foyer. Jason had stepped in front of Bobby. Oh god. The punch had hit the mask - the fragile side of Jason's face.

His foot stepped back to catch himself during the split instant that Bobby's father froze in shock. Bobby's father looked livid at the interception. Jason blinked hard, as if stunned.

A fist flew at Jason's stomach, Jason gasped and hunched over, but he didn't move himself from between the father and Bobby.

Something was wrong. Blood trickled around the neck of the mask and a drop blossomed on Jason's white shirt. He struggled to block the next blow, as if dizzy from the punch to his jaw. As if he had a concussion.

Trudy snatched an umbrella, ready to rush in and fight, but Pete was gone. Pete had the brute strength to help Jason. "Bobby!" Distance from Bobby may fizzle out some of the father's fuel. As soon as Bobby stumbled back toward her, she grabbed his shirt and pushed him toward the stairs. She spun around and looked for a weapon to help Jason without risking danger to the baby.

The father focused so intently on aiming a punch at Jason that she darted in from the side. A hard kick at the man's knee. She fell back from the force, right into Pete's arms and the father sprawled backwards on the ground.

Jason snatched something from Pete. "Get out," Jason snarled, holding his belly as his eye finally focused. And he raised a gun at the man.

Everyone froze in shock. Except Bobby's father, who got up without any fear in his eyes. "Are you going to shoot me? Really? In cold blood in front of a child?" A smile snaked across his face. He took a step forward.

Jason's feet braced apart and his eye narrowed.

"Bobby, you're going to let him shoot your old man?" The man continued to advance but glanced at Bobby. "Let's go home."

The minute Bobby took a step forward, her heart stopped in fear for Jason.

"No." Bobby stepped closer to Jason, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You'll never be different, will you?" The boy sobbed like a child whose dreams and hopes of being loved by a father burned to ash before his eyes. "You haven't seen me in months, and you come drunk and ready to hit me."

Another gun cocked. She glanced to the right. Pete aimed a rifle at the father, finally halting his progress toward Jason.

"It's discipline!" The father screamed the words.

"It's hate!" Bobby's chest heaved as he gulped in air. "He's never hit me! I say worse things than I ever have to you, but he still won't hit me!" Then he thrust a finger at her. "I went in her bedroom, and she didn't try to have sex with me like your girlfriends! It made me so angry that I tried to hit her - because you and your bitches use me! I try to make them hate me!" He screamed, so much confused boy-child hurt erupting. "But they love me."

Her lip quivered at the scars forming on this boy's heart. Those scars would never fade from pain that no child should know.

"You've never said it. Do you love me?" Bobby looked at his father with so much raw hope.

"Bobby, go in the study," Jason cut in, as if knowing the answer.

The man's hard expression didn't change.

She hurried over to take the boy away before his heart completely broke.

Jason threw his hand out to keep her back, likely worried what a punch would do to her and the baby getting that close to either one of them in the height of emotion. "Bobby," Jason snapped.

"Dad?" Tears rolled down his face.

The father smirked. "I should've known when your mother left you behind. I should've done the same and left you in a trash can as a baby, worthless bastard." Then he turned and walked out to his car.

"Dad!" The boy ran out the door after his father.

Jason and Pete hurried out after him.

The car drove away without a backwards glance in the rearview mirror.

Bobby sank to his knees and sobbed, the dust of the empty driveway still settling around him.

She knelt and gathered him to her, the boy clutching handfuls of her sweater as gut-wrenching grief broke his heart. Stroking his back, she pressed a kiss to his hair and looked up at Trudy, who quietly wept into her apron.

Jason handed Pete the gun. Then Jason knelt and set a hand on Bobby's back, not even paying attention to the growing bloodstain on his own neckcollar.

"Why..." the poor boy choked on his tears, "didn't you let him hit me?"

Jason set a hand in the dirt to lean forward and meet Bobby's eyes. "Because while you're under my roof," he said in a hard tone, "no one raises a hand to you."

"But why?" Tears streamed down his cheeks, the concept so utterly and sadly foreign to him. "Why did you take the punch?!" He shoved on Jason's chest. "I hate you!"

"Because under this roof, that's what a father does." He thrust a finger at the ground, his voice rock hard. "I don't care how much you hate the rules, I treat you as I see fit for a son. I don't care how much you hate me, you need someone to love you and care about your future - if I have to shove it down your throat, so be it."

Bobby choked on a sob and threw himself into Jason's arms. "I love you." He buried his face against Jason's chest.

Jason looked at her in surprise for a moment. Then his arms went around the boy and he pressed a kiss to his hair. "I love you too," he whispered.

* * *

Lying in bed, she watched Jason strip. "Bobby's probably going to be put up for adoption, isn't he?"

A deep sigh filled the silence. "I suspect so. The social worker didn't sound too thrilled when I called and told him what happened."

She rolled onto her side to face him. "I think deep down Bobby respects you - he just needs to test to make sure you won't hit him when you're angry."

He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. "I feel like I'm constantly on edge. If he's put up for adoption, the state is going to ask us first if we'll adopt him." Strain and regret filled his voice. "I don't know if that's the best environment for the other children. Maybe he'd do better in a home with a single mother so there isn't the tension of fearing the man will hit him." He ran a hand over his face.

She sat up and wrapped an arm around his waist. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she studied his profile. "Jay, you don't have to feel guilty about not adopting him. It's not as if you haven't tried. Maybe this home isn't the right fit. The social worker and therapist will have better insight too in a few months by the time Bobby is eligible for adoption."

"I hope we aren't making a huge mistake taking him to your family's for Thanksgiving. It's the first time most of them are meeting Henrietta and we're announcing the baby...that's going to make him feel very much like an outsider and who knows how he'll react." He locked his hands behind his neck.

"Jay, relax. This isn't like you. I think you have a concussion and need to rest if you won't see a doctor - "

He shot up and marched to the door, pulling the ski mask. "I have to go talk to him." Then he left.

She glanced at the clock. Half past ten. Bobby may still be awake. Pulling on her robe, she walked down the hall to the boy's room. Peeking inside, she frowned - Bobby sat in bed with his arms around his legs like a scared child while Jason sat on the edge of the bed. And then it dawned that perhaps Bobby sat curled up because he only knew fear if someone came in his room. It was the same position she'd sat in the first few times Jason had come to her and she'd feared him yet.

"...and we'll be announcing the baby. We don't want you to feel excluded, so we thought you should know what's going to happen tomorrow," Jason finished.

"You think I'm going to embarrass you." Bobby's voice didn't have the usual hardness to it, but it wasn't gentle either.

Jason met his eyes. "In all honesty, you haven't had a record of showing respect. Her family knows her and I, so there's nothing for us to be embarrassed about. You'll be embarrassing yourself and giving cause for them to dislike you. You're a good young man - you just need to believe it." When Bobby didn't say anything, Jason stood to leave.

"Can I call you 'dad'? Just for tomorrow?" Bobby's voice came out small and afraid and heartbroken.

Jason stopped and confusion, concern, happiness and a dozen other emotions flitted across his face. Calm serenity finally settled in his expression and he turned to the boy. "I don't know what's going to happen with everything weeks or months or years from now. But I will never deny you calling me 'dad.'"

Bobby remained silent, digesting those words, so Jason came to the threshold and turned off the light.

"Dad?" The word came quiet and a little self-conscious.

Jason stilled for a second like he wasn't sure of the intent behind the word. Then he turned in the doorway.

"I love you."

The tension melted from his shoulder and he set a hand over his heart. Then he set a hand on the doorknob. "Good night, Bobby. I love you." He closed the door.

She smiled up at him and slipped an arm around his neck as he scooped her up. "You shouldn't carry me until your concussion is better. I think you earned a lot of respect after what you did tonight." She set her fingers on the edge of the bandage at his jawline where the mask had cut into the delicate scars.

The man just grunted and kept walking, as if too choked up yet to speak.

So she laid her head on his shoulder and waited until he reached the bedroom. "I wish you'd go to the hospital. I'm certain you have a concussion."

"I'm fine. I'll set the alarm so you can wake me every two hours, old woman," he growled, set her in bed, and climbed in.

"Fine. I'll be a rich widow and find some hot doctor to warm my bed." She rolled away, her voice nonchalant.

"Wench." He reached under the blankets, pulled up her nightgown, and slid down her undergarment.

"What are you doing?" She gasped and swatted his hand away.

"Punishing you." The naughty pleasure dripped in his voice and he leaned over and nibbled her neck.

"You, sir, are on light duty until you get checked for a concussion. Plus, the family jewels took a beating earlier and shouldn't - "

"Should be checked to make sure they're functioning," he interjected."To appease you for my so-called concussion, I'll lie still while you ravish me." He rolled onto his back.

A surprised laugh escaped and she rolled toward him. "Oh really? And who says I'm in the mood to ravish you?"

He gave a sound swat to her bottom through her nightgown, a wicked smile spreading over his lips. "Saucy brat. Sass me some more. It's the Eve of Thanks, and I'll show you what I'm thankful for." He pulled her up to straddle his hips. "Strip for me, my Aphrodite."

A giggle bubbled up, loving this playful side of him. "Sass you more?" She seemed to take too long to strip because he pulled at her nightgown. She peeled it off, flushing as his eye dilated black and feasted on every inch.

His hands immediately went to the tiny bump of her thickening waist. His eye rolled back in pleasure. "You're starting to show. Sweet heaven, it shouldn't have this affect on me." The man rolled her over and explored her changing body, sending her through the clouds.

* * *

The next morning, she untangled from the sheets and glanced over her shoulder at Jason still asleep. She tiptoed into the washroom and shut the door. Memories of last night rushed back, making her cheeks burn. The man had entirely too much advantage with the baby making everything so much more sensitive. He certainly didn't act like a concussed man. Getting dressed before he woke up would be a good idea.

She stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later and frowned. The bed was empty.

"Ye took entirely too long, lass," a deep baritone purred from the left.

Heat rushed even before she turned her head. The wicked man approached in all his powerful glory with lust dancing in his eye.

The butterflies intensified in her belly. Her eyes flicked down and then back to his face as he took her hand. "You weren't satisfied last night?" She cocked an eyebrow.

He smiled, that lopsided grin so beautiful as his fingers laced with hers. Then he just stood there, his gaze alone intense enough that her knees grew weak.

"We need to get ready to leave for Nana's." The man made it impossible to look away from that gorgeous blue eye.

"Then by all means, ye should get ready," he purred, the rumble deep and sexy in his broad chest.

Her heart skipped a beat. She stepped closer and pressed her body to his, slipping her arms around his shoulders and rising onto her toes. "If you agree to go to get checked for a concussion, I'll do anything you want tonight," she breathed against his lips.

"That's a naughty bribe." His smile grew. "But you let me do what I want anyways. So, no."

She pouted her bottom lip and gave him a sad look.

"Oh ho, no." He took a step back. "You've pulled that on me before. I'm fine. You can call the doctor, alright?"

"Fine." She grabbed his phone and ignored his arms wrapping around from behind and the kiss on her bare shoulder as the nurse put her through to the doctor. When she hung up, she tossed his phone on the bed in disgust when the doctor said to just watch for symptoms.

He chuckled. "I know what to watch for in a concussion. A scan isn't going to tell us anything we don't know."

"Doctors take concussions more seriously now. You don't have to pass out to have a severe one," she huffed.

The man grazed his teeth over her neck. "Fine. I'll get a scan if you're going to worry all weekend. It'll come back as minor, if at all. You stay here so you and the baby aren't exposed to diseases."

He returned wearing the ski mask less than two hours later as she dressed Henrietta. The man swooped in and tossed Henrietta in the air. The girl squealed and kicked her legs in excitement.

"Well?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"Daddy was right," he cooed and nuzzled Henrietta's nose. "Just a teeny concussion that Mama was a worry wart over for nothing." Then he smiled, leaned down, and brushed a kiss over her lips. "I know - I would've made you go too." He set down Henrietta and pulled on her dress, his smile fading.

"Jay?"

The smile slipped away to all seriousness, vulnerability and nervousness taking its place. "The mask doesn't fit with the bandages."

"Then wear the ski mask." She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

His eye darted down in shame.

With the oven and all the people in the house, it would be too warm. The mask would trap heat and cause the delicate flesh to break down within hours. "We'll go for a couple hours and come home."

Such regret filled his eye when he glanced at her. "You should be able to spend the whole day with your family. I'm sorry. I'll wait on the jet - "

"You will do no such thing. You're my family just as much as them. We will have Thanksgiving dinner here and then go visit. That way we can eat together and Nana's house will have time to cool from the cooking."

He swallowed hard. "Emma, I don't want to embarrass you. Your family has been more gracious than most. People stare worse at the ski mask - "

"They will answer to me if they do. Everyone respects and very much likes you. Plus, they'll be distracted with Henrietta and the baby news." She held his hand. "Please try. If they stare, we will leave."

"That's not the point."

"Jay, you could never embarrass me." She cupped his sound cheek and stepped closer as she pressed her lips to his. "You're very sexy," she breathed.

"You're very hormonal." A slight smile tugged at his lips as his arms wrapped around her.

"Then I will quite and enjoy being dominated." She gave a shy smile as the words purred.

His eye narrowed and the smile grew as he pinned her wrists overhead against the bedpost with one hand. "I do love my wife surrendering to me," he whispered and his hand slipped between her legs. "However, our daughter is in the room." He pecked a kiss on her lips and retrieved Henrietta crawling away.

"Plus, my lovely wife, you need to a break so we don't trigger labor." He scooped up the girl and returned, laying a hand over her belly. Then he slid down and pressed a kiss to the baby. "You and Mama need a nap." Then he tucked her in bed.

"We need to start cooking the turkey." A yawn. "I'm not tired." Maybe a little.

A smile softened his features as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll get Henrietta and you work on baking this bun in the oven." He set a hand over the baby. "We woke up every couple hours last night, and I wore you out. Take a nap, sweetheart. You're still in the first trimester when the baby drains a lot from you."

"I'm not that tired." Her eyes drifted shut, though. She didn't hear his reply.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. I wrote this chapter four times completely going in different directions but didn't like any of them. So, I ended up deleting 25,000 words in total. Sometimes you gotta try different paths to find the right one. :)**

* * *

With a kiss to Henrietta's soft curls, she set the baby on her hip. She inhaled - needed - the perfect, innocent scent of a baby.

Thanksgiving had been wonderful - everyone so excited to meet Henrietta and shrieks of excitement over the announcement of a baby on the way. Bobby had been in awe of family gathering for a holiday to celebrate. He'd even gone so far as to help keep the little ones out of trouble, although he avoided interaction with all men but Jason. Bliss had been short-lived.

"Ah na na," Henrietta sighed and cuddled against her chest. "Odd-ee eye eye."

"Yes, sweetie, Daddy's gotta go bye bye," she whispered and rested her cheek atop of Henrietta's head to ease the gut-wrenching ache inside.

"Emma." Jason stepped into her bedroom through the connecting door.

She didn't turn from the window. More tears slipped down. There shouldn't be any tears left after crying all night. He'd tried to be comforting and even make love, but it was too much like a last chance to say goodbye. Forever.

"Em, I _have_ to go."

"No!" She whirled around, the anger consuming every fiber. "You were discharged! You can't be called for deployment! Your face can't tolerate heat without the tissue breaking down! They don't get to rip you away from us and send you into war - "

He stepped forward and set his hands on her shoulders. "I'm not going into direct combat or in extreme heat."

"Then where?!"

Regret filled his eye. "It's classified."

"When are you coming back?"

He looked away.

Tears burned. The grief and fear finally became too painful and morphed into anger. "Fine. You go be married to the government, and I'll let you know when the baby is born. If you decide to come back, maybe we'll be here or maybe we'll be in Chicago." Then she stormed out with Henrietta in her arms.

"Emma!" His heavy footsteps followed into Henrietta's room. "Don't be like that. If I don't comply, I could go to prison. I'll be back before the baby's born - I can't tell you more than that. I'm not even supposed to tell you that much!"

She set Henrietta down on the bed that Jason had finished making...making just in time to leave and go die in war. "Back in a casket? With a limb missing?" Peeling off Henrietta's nightgown, she hurled the clothes toward the hamper. "I didn't sign up to be a soldier's wife!" Then she whirled toward him. "This is never going to end! They kick you off active duty after being injured, but nooo - when they need something, suddenly you're good enough. They discharge you, but they get to send you on some mission now?! They can't do that!"

"Yes, they can!" he boomed and thrust a finger at his chest. "I told you there was a risk of this happening! I don't get a choice! And I'm not sorry that I signed up to protect our country, to keep terrorists out so our children can grow up free!"

Henrietta stood up on the bed and fisted her hands. "Ah na ah ya ya!" she screamed at the top of her lungs to join in the fight, her little face reddening.

Tears blurred everything. "I don't want you to regret serving! I want you home where I'm not scared if you're still alive!"

He jerked her into his arms. "Emma, I can't tell you where, but I'm disabled - I can't be in active combat. I won't be back soon, but I'll be back well before the baby's born. I'll likely have email access and can write to you. I'll call as often as I can. We might be able to video chat...and see Henrietta's progress with speech therapy and the baby grow..." His voice grew thick as he picked up Henrietta and set a hand over the baby bump not even really there yet.

* * *

Her head pounded from crying so much that night when Jason left. A half hour later, the cell phone chirped with a text.

 _Are you alright? I'd call, but I'm so homesick already that I don't trust myself to not tell Stevens to turn around and risk prison. Did Henrietta stop crying?_

 _I love you & the babies,_

 _J_

She sniffled and switched Henrietta to her other side to text him back.

 _She cried herself to sleep in my lap. We're in the rocking chair in the nursery. I think she cried because she saw me crying. We miss you. Can you tell me when the next time is you'll be calling each time?_

 _We love you,_

 _E_

His reply came seconds later.

 _I'll do my best. I don't get more details until I get there. There may be a few days I can't have contact, but I may not have notice. I won't be in combat, so don't panic if I miss some calls. Eat well and sleep enough for the baby. If there's an emergency, email. I won't be able to have my cell. I set up my phone so texts and voicemails will filter through as emails. Even if I can't respond, email me every day that everything's alright?_

He must be just as worried about her and Henrietta.

 _I will. When will you call?_

Muscles tensed bracing for days or weeks without contact.

 _Let's plan on a couple days, sweetheart. If I can tomorrow, we'll count it as a surprise. :) I have to go._

 _Em...I love you. Very much._

 _J_

The tears started again.

 _I love you too. Be careful. Come home soon._

 _Yours forever,_

 _Em_

Two days later, an email came rather than the promised call.

 _My dear Emma,_

 _I know I promised a call today, but things are not what I expected. I'm not in direct combat. Email me every day that everyone's alright. I'll make contact as often as I'm able._

 _I love you & miss you,_

 _J_

Writing every morning and night and praying everything was alright as days passed still led to not a word from him. Then a week later came 'I'm alright' in the header of an email and nothing in the body.

* * *

The phone rang. It'd been two days without a word from him, almost two weeks since he'd left. She sat up in bed and turned on the light, snatching the phone and expecting the worst at this hour. A blocked number. In winter with the mountains, maybe the military called instead of coming to the door to announce a soldier fallen in action. "Hello?" Her voice quivered.

"Hi, sweetheart." Jason sounded happy.

Sobs burst out.

"Emma, what's wrong? Is the baby alright?" Panic filled his voice.

"I thought it was a call saying you're dead."

"Oh, love, I'm fine. No, I'm just calling from one of the secured phones. Don't cry. I'm sorry I frightened you calling so late. Are you and the babies alright?"

She glanced at the clock. Midnight. There was background noise for him like others were awake. "We're fine. Is it daylight there?"

"It is. I have a half hour. How are Henrietta's speech sessions going?"

Settling back against the pillows, the hysteria faded and the ache for him slammed home. The nights had been filled with dreams of bombs and guns and the enemy cutting Jason apart in torture rooms. The days were worse - seeing his desk and things but not knowing when or if he'd come back...it was like a glimpse of widowhood and life without him. It made every moment hard to breathe. If he did come home and in one piece, he'd miss the pregnancy - the little kicks and ultrasounds and appointments...everything he'd been so excited to experience alongside her. "Are you coming home soon?" Her voice broke.

"No, sweetheart." His voice grew thick. "It'll be there before then," he said, referencing the birth and dropping his voice so not to be overheard. "Are you eating and sleeping enough?" He must've sensed her hesitation. "Emma, what's wrong?"

She burst into tears, the only thing she seemed capable of doing anymore. "You missed the twelve-week ultrasound. She said the pains are just growing pains, but I'm scared there's something wrong."

He flew into doctor mode, probably scared himself being on the other side of the world and no way to come if something was wrong. "Where and how often?"

"Up the sides and a few times a day on and off the past week," she sniffled.

A male voice mumbled in the background.

"Yes, sir," Jason said. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry, I have to go. Tell me what's going on in email - I think I'll be able to get on in a couple hours. Do what the doctor says and be sure to drink enough to help with any cramping. It's probably just growing pains and dehydration. Don't stress - that won't help the baby."

Resentment pinched even though it wasn't his fault that he kept being unable to talk or email. "Bye."

"Em, don't be angry," he pleaded.

"They just keep promising you can talk...nevermind. Be careful."

"It should settle down in a few days. I love you. Give the babies my love."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you. Bye, sweetheart."

"Bye." She waited for him to disconnect and cradled the phone, listening to the dial tone and not wanting to hang up - to keep as close to him as long as possible. He'd mentioned he wasn't in direct combat, not that he wasn't in combat zones.

* * *

The next morning, Saturday, she sat before the computer screen to write to him, but the cursor blinked on the blank screen, somehow mocking and laughing that the only way to communicate was through one-sided emails. He'd never emailed last night.

Picking up Henrietta from where she waddled around the library pulling books off the shelf to make a mess, she headed to the arboretum. She set up the new paints that Jason had given her months ago to work out the terrible memories of the assault. They were needed now to heal the pain - pain of possibly losing him. At best, the pain of him missing out on the precious moments of pregnancy. Who knew if he'd truly be home for the birth? Going through childbirth without him seemed so terrifying, so alone. And it'd break his heart just as much as hers to miss it. She rubbed the tiny baby bump that had developed the past week - the first of so many things that he would miss.

Suddenly, painting didn't seem like the right thing to do either, the restlessness only growing with each passing day. He could already be dead or severely injured and she'd have no idea for days. Scooping up Henrietta, she left the arboretum.

* * *

"I'm prescribing an anti-nausea drug. It's perfectly safe for the fetus," the doctor said a few days later. "I know you're worried about your husband, but the baby and you both need food. Stay busy with activities to keep your mind off of things. Visit family, take classes, do things you enjoy. Continue the IV fluids - this stress-induced vomiting isn't something you can tolerate during pregnancy. Come back in a week."

Trudy rubbed her arm, insisting on coming to the appointment in Jason's place. "You need to tell him that you're getting skinny as a chicken, don'tcha know."

"Thank you, doctor," she said, ignoring Trudy's comment. Telling Jason whenever he would call next would only make him worry. And worry was a distraction. And distraction could get him killed.

She walked out of the exam room minutes later with Trudy close behind. Jason had emailed last Saturday night with 'top secret, no contact for a few days. Love you.' Not a word since, and the stress surged trying to email him like everything was dandy, so she avoided the computer except to obsessively check the Inbox every half hour.

"He needs to know you're getting sick." Trudy's voice cut in.

Walking faster down the hall, she snorted in disgust. "To make him distracted to get killed? To make him ashamed I can't tolerate being a soldier's wife for one mission?" She hit the elevator button.

"To get his support and reassurance," Trudy said softly.

Spinning on the woman, she tried to glare but her face crumpled against the tears. "His support that I'm probably going to kill the baby because I can't keep food down?" Horrid guilt mounted and she thrust a finger at the floor. "If this baby dies, there's not a damn thing he can do about it from over there. I'm not going to make him worry when he's risking his life," she spat and stabbed a finger at her own chest. "If I make the baby die, I deserve to deal with it on my own." Tears slipped down.

The elevator door opened.

Trudy frowned. "You're just scared - "

"Not another word," she hissed and got in the elevator.

Trudy got in and turned to face her. "The baby won't die, and if something happens, you don't deserve to - "

"Enough!" She glared at the woman, the harshness of her tone demanding obedience from Trudy for the first time ever.

The ride home was long and silent. If the baby died because she couldn't be strong enough for Jason on the Homefront, the pain of losing the baby alone was well-deserved. To go through the fear and pain and grief of bleeding out the baby without him. He deserved to at least have a wife who wouldn't put him through learning of that loss until after being safely back home. And he deserved a chance to hate her face to face for losing the baby.

* * *

Her phone rang late the next morning on her desk. She absently grabbed her work cell while typing in more figures for the current case at work. Calls had been flooding in nonstop from Jack with updates in a computer hack going down in a few hours. The chaos offered a blessed distraction - at least for a few minutes at a time. "Hoplin."

"Em, what's going on?"

She blinked. It sounded like Jason. Glancing at the desk, her eyes widened. The work cell still sat the desk. Closing the laptop, she swallowed down the relief of hearing from him. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I got an email from Trudy that you aren't. Why can't you keep food down?"

Trudy and her big mouth. "Just morningsickness."

"She told me what the doctor said. I need to trust that you're honest with me." His tone didn't accuse but didn't sound pleased at the secret either. "I don't expect you to shoulder everything yourself at home. Neither do I expect you to know how to deal with this any better than I do being away from you while you're pregnant and basically a new mother to a toddler. It's driving me up the wall being away and not being able to contact you - I don't expect you to be some Super Soldier Wife on the Homefront. I have an hour or two. Tell me what's going on."

"It's the middle of the night there. You should be sleeping - "

"I'll sleep a hell of a lot better for four hours rather than tossing and turning all night worrying about you. I got Internet signal for four minutes yesterday without a word from you in days!"

"And how does it feel?!" The anger burst out without any thought.

Dead silence. "I can't get signals or time long enough to call or email, so I'm punished by freaking out if you and Henrietta are alright? If you've miscarried?" He sounded so hurt.

Tears fell. "No, every time I sit down to write, I cry and Trudy or Pete come in and take away the computer." More like sobbed from the 'hormonies' making everything seem worse, according to Trudy.

"Emma, I promise you that I'm not in war zones. Don't cry. It rips my heart out to hear you cry every time I call. I promise I'm coming home. Tell me what's going on."

"The doctor gave anti-nausea meds. There's nothing for you to worry about." Brave words for having hands shake in fear that at any time the baby would give out not being able to get food.

"Don't you goddamn lie and shove me away," he snapped. "You're at risk of losing the baby and being in danger yourself, if you haven't already miscarried. Don't you try to be some damn stoic woman dealing with this alone when I'm begging you to let me in."

"I haven't miscarried." The tears welled. "Even if I do, there's nothing you can do about it besides get distracted and killed for it! You said you weren't in active combat, not that you weren't in combat zones."

His voice lowered. "I can't tell you without serious repercussions - "

"I'm not asking you to tell me!"

"Emma, they're not going to put a half blind, half deaf man in a combat zone. If I die, they lose the whole purpose for which they brought me here. I need you to trust me and stop being worried that something's going to happen."

So they had him there for his brain. Maybe because he had led raids and the school terrorist mission, they had him in an office leading missions. Her stomach unclenched a little for the first time in weeks.

"Tell me what's going on, Em."

Once she relayed the conversation with the doctor, a deep sigh filled the other end of the phone. "Have you lost weight?"

"Eight pounds." She rested a hand on the little bump as tears welled. "I don't know how to be a soldier's wife." The shame blistered. He was overseas without anyone and in war, and here she was falling apart because he wasn't at home with her and the family.

"Em, you don't have even five pounds to lose. I never asked you to be a soldier's wife. I know when we wed you asked me about it, and I told you that I didn't think you ever had to worry about it. I would be going crazy if the situation was reversed. It's alright that you don't know how and don't want to be a soldier's wife. But we have to figure out a way to help you cope with it for just a bit longer. I know I don't help things when I go missing for days at a time. I don't know if I should offer this because you don't need to get overtired too, but I have a thirty- to sixty-minute window every day at about two o'clock in the morning your time when I can sneak out for a call."

Her heart beat faster. "Tonight?"

"I don't know if I can do tonight, but I can starting tomorr...yes, it'd be your tomorrow night. You have to promise to go to bed early so you don't get tired too. Is there anything else going on?"

She bit her lip. Maybe Trudy hadn't told him about the IV fluids. "Is there something specific you're asking?"

"Yes, for you to be honest so I'm not worrying what's really going on."

"It's probably a precaution, but she has me on IV saline twice a day because I can't keep water down..." She stood and the room dipped. The world tilted sideways as she felt her body go limp. Then everything went black.

She blinked as someone patted her cheek.

"Wake up, dearie." Trudy's voice filtered through in distress. As vision cleared, Trudy sat back and set a hand over her heart. "Thank Jesus, I thought you hit your head hard."

"She's awake." Pete stepped over and held out his phone. "It's Jason."

"You called him?" She whispered the accusation and took the phone.

"You fainted while on the phone with him. He called me to check on you."

She took the phone and pushed herself up to sit, with Pete's help. "Jay, I'm fine - "

"Like hell you are! I had a fucking heart attack! I requested emergency leave, and I don't want to hear a damn word from you about it! If you ever keep something like this from me again, I'll...I'll...I don't know what the hell I'll do but it won't be good!"

"Jay, don't request leave. If something does happen with the baby, you won't be able to come. This is simple and fixable - "

"How is this simple?!" He nearly shrieked. "You're pregnant and so malnourished you're fainting!"

"Jason, stop. I think daily calls will help. It's just stress causing it. If things aren't better in a couple days, you can come."

"No! And you're going to the hospital to make sure you didn't hit your head and the baby is fine!"

She held the phone away as he shouted. Taking a sip of the water that Trudy pressed into her hand, she waited a moment as Pete held out a bowl for it to come back up like usual. It stayed down. "Can I have a minute?" she whispered to them.

"We're waiting right outside the door." Pete pointed a finger like a stern father and scooped up Henrietta.

"Em, I'm sorry." Jason's voice actually cracked at the end of his tantrum. "I'm thousands of miles away and climbing the walls worrying about you and Henrietta. Then I find out you and the baby aren't well and you fainted and I can't do anything from here..."

More damn tears stung. "I know I'm supposed to be strong..." The tears spilled over. "I'm so scared if you're coming back. If you do, at best you're going to miss everything with the pregnancy."

"I _am_ coming back. Emma, you have to stop being this distressed and crying all the time. This isn't healthy for you or the baby, and pretty soon you're going to get depression. Things have calmed down here for a bit, so I should be able to call every day. We can video call so I don't have to miss things, sweetheart. Can you make OB appointments early in the morning? Then it's late here so I can be on the phone for them."

"Okay. Will you be home for Christmas?" Almost a week away. One week would be doable to get through.

"I can't tell you, sweetheart." He sounded sad about it - the first Christmas of being married and with Henrietta - he probably wasn't going to be home. "Have you been watching the news?"

"No. I don't want to hear your death announce on TV."

"Em, a disabled vet won't be put in combat."

"They did before!"

"Em, just turn on the news tonight. You'll figure out where I am and when I'm coming." Then he sighed. "I'm tired of temp extremes."

She blinked at that odd comment. It must be a clue.

"Why did the OB put you on IV fluids?" He streamed right into another topic. His deployment must be very top secret and that conversation done.

"About two weeks ago. I have trouble keeping anything down, except for crackers in mid-afternoon. I had some cramping last night that she thinks is from being dehydrated. It's gone since getting a fluid bolus this morning."

"Have you bled?"

"No. I felt the baby move last night. It was a tickle but too strong to not be the baby - "

A male voice interrupted in the background.

"My wife, sir. We're expecting and she's unable to eat or drink and is fainting from being malnourished." Jason's voice held that crisp soldier response but also an undertone of pleading. Deep mumbling from both men came over the phone.

She bit her lip. He must be in trouble for being on the phone at this late hour.

"Sorry, sweetheart."

"Are you in trouble?"

"Well, I snuck out. Disobedience can't be tolerated, so it's an extra half hour of exercises in the morning."

"I'm sorry. You should go." Her heart dropped. Not even a chance to get to tell him about feeling the baby kick.

"He said it's an extra half hour each night I'm caught. In other words, he's saying I can call you."

"You'll be tired from extra exercise - "

"I'll be extra buff for you. You felt the baby move?" The smile came through his tone.

Her heart fluttered as a smile tugged that he circled back to the baby. "Yeah. I was reading the pregnancy books, and they say you probably won't be able to feel for another month or two."

"Are you showing more?"

Her cheeks burned. "I can't button my pants anymore, but I don't fit maternity pants yet." A fresh wave of sadness swept over - he probably asked because he wouldn't be home to see the baby growing any time soon.

"Ohh," he cooed. "When you go maternity clothes shopping, go in the morning and call me. I'll figure out how to get on email so you can send pictures and we can pick out outfits."

Her heart melted. "I'd like that." And then tears fell. "You'll be gone so long that you'll miss it otherwise, won't you?"

"Emma, stop," he said in a firm tone. "I realize the hormones don't help, but you can't be this consumed and focused on me not being there. We will find ways for me to be part of the pregnancy. You need to get out of the house and do things to keep you occupied." Then his voice softened. "I should go in a minute, but send me a picture of the baby and you and Henrietta."

She cracked a smile, rose onto her knees and lifted her sweater to take a profile belly picture. Then she sent it before opening the office door where Pete waited. "She should talk to Jason quick," she whispered and took Henrietta.

"Ohhh, look at you," he cooed about the picture that must've just arrived. "You look so beautiful, Em."

Another laugh bubbled up as she sat on the floor with Henrietta. "It's just a closeup of my belly." She put the phone on speaker. "Say 'hi' to Daddy."

"Eye! Eye!" Henrietta buried her face in her blankie from shyness.

"That's how she says 'hi' and 'bye.'" She smiled and pulled Henrietta upright to talk.

"Hello, Princess! You're learning to say more words?! What a big girl!"

Henrietta gave a toothy grin, her nose scrunching up. She snapped a photo and sent it to him.

He burst out laughing. "What else did you learn, poppet?"

"Tell Daddy, 'I love you.'" She laughed pulled down the blanket. "She's hiding in her blanket. Say, 'I love you' to Daddy."

"Wov ooo!" Then Henrietta shrieked with glee and kicked her legs as Jason cheered. She jammed a wad of the blanket in her mouth.

Prince came trotting in with his tail wagging. She turned on the recording of Henrietta grabbing his fur to pull herself up and hang on as Prince led her to the kitchen."Prince has taken to showing her when cookies are baking." She followed them to Pete in the kitchen making chocolate chip cookies and sent it to Jason.

"Ohhh, isn't that adorable? Is she doing well in speech therapy?"

Setting a hand on her belly, the smile faded and she slipped out to the foyer. "She has more throat and tongue paralysis than they thought, so her progress slowed down." Jason had noticeable tongue paralysis when kissing, but his speech was exceptional. "Um, do you think I should call the speech therapist you had?"

"It's worth a try if you're wondering about her progress. I don't know if there's adult and peds specialties, but you could ask him if he can work with her."

"Okay. Where's his number?" It would feel better to get a second opinion from someone with whom Jason had good experience.

He cleared his throat. "Um, I sort of forgot to cancel...he's coming Tuesday at seven in the morning."

She blinked. "Why?"

The man seemed uncomfortable. "Well, I sort of have six-week appointments..." His voice trailed off as he mumbled.

"You what?"

"If I don't keep up on it, my speech goes downhill," he rushed out. His embarrassment was palpable through the phone.

"Ohhhh, Jay, why didn't you tell me? It doesn't matter to me. I'll help you practice. Do you want me to ask him what things you should practice while you're gone?"

"No," he huffed, "a man has his pride." A male voice mumbled. "Em, I have to get off before I really get in trouble. I'll try calling you tomorrow."

"OK. I love you. Be careful." The smile faded. Things had almost felt happy for a minute, forgetting about the deployment and simply talking with him.

"I love you and the babies. Promise to email if you get worse. I'll find a phone to call you. And, Em?" He paused. "I'm sorry I had to leave."

"Jay, I don't want you to be sorry. If we didn't have men and women like you to protect our country, we'd have terrorists and gunmen on our streets. I just wish I could be a better wife so you didn't have to worry about things back home."

"Em, deployment during pregnancy would be hard on any wife, much less when we have a new toddler and everything. Hang in there, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you. Bye."

"Bye, love."

She hung up and looked at the caller ID. He'd called from a blocked number. So much weight and relief lifted having finally talked to him after weeks. But the homesickness for him settled in stronger than ever.

* * *

The next day right before lunch, the cell rang on the desk. Blocked number. Snatching the phone, she hit the button as her heart beat faster with excitement. "Hi, Jay."

"Mrs. Port?" a male voice replied - Mr. Henry's voice. "It's - "

Her jaw clenched. "I have nothing to say to you. I'm expecting a call. Goodbye."

"From your husband on deployment?"

The world stopped. An icy-cold chill ran down. "How did you know that?"

"A reporter gets deep-rooted sources over the years."

Fierce instinct kicked in to protect Jason at any cost. "Is that a threat?" The words hissed out in a deadly tone.

"No. I called to see how you're doing. I know you hate me, but I hope in time you'll give me a second chance. My brother-in-law serves and I see how hard it is on my sister during deployment."

"And I'm supposed to pour my heart out to you to give you the juiciest story you've had in months? I don't think so." The phone beeped for an incoming call. "Goodbye." She hung up and switched over. "Hello?" The word snapped out, every muscle coiled with tension.

"Hi, love...is everything alright? You sound angry."

"Oh, our lovely friend Mr. Henry was on the other line."

"What?! Why was he calling? Did he find out about the baby?"

"To see how I'm doing while you're on deployment."

Absolute silence. "Where did he hear that?" Tension strained his words.

"He said reporters get deep-rooted sources over time."

"Give me his number."

"He called from a blocked number. You can try his cell..." She rattled it off from the contact list.

"I have to take care of this. I'll call you back in a bit." He hung up without waiting for a reply.

She flipped on the noon news. Jason has said she'd figure out his deployment through the news. The war in the Middle East, tension with North Korea, the U.S. President visiting China, issues in Mexico...none matched the clue about Jason being sick of the temperature extremes.

Jason didn't call back, so she sent an email a couple hours later.

 _Jay,_

 _Is everything alright?_

 _Love you,_

 _Em_

His reply came two hours later after pacing a hole in the floor.

 _Had to shut down that leak. Been up thirty-two hours: have to get in two hours asleep before on duty again. Love you, call tomorrow. Sorry._

The unusually poor grammar and misuse of 'asleep' portrayed his exhaustion.

* * *

Christmas came and went without another word from him. Lots of tears filled that day. The next day didn't seem worth getting out of bed, so she cuddled Henrietta under the blankets as the stress vomiting grew worse.

* * *

The next day, a knock came at the bedroom door. "Go away," she sniffled and cuddled the sleeping Henrietta closer. Pete or Trudy probably were coming to try shoving more food at her that wouldn't stay down.

The door creaked open and a tap created an odd gate over the hardwood floor. "Not on my watch, Emmie."

She lifted her head in surprise. Nana hobbled across the room. Pete looked sheepish in the doorway.

"JJ got a call from Trudy that you aren't getting out of bed. JJ called me. Get up."

Her head pounded from crying unending tears for weeks. "The baby's gonna die and Jason's gonna die..."

Nana walked over and bent her crooked back down to be eye level. "Get up." It was an order.

So she pushed herself to sit up without disturbing Henrietta.

Then she nodded at Pete, who brought in some soup and toast and then hurried out. Nana set an empty bowl on the bed. "You lose that baby, and your husband will blame himself and get so distraught that he'll get himself killed over there. You're a fighter, Emmie. I don't care how many times you vomit, you will get some food to that baby."

She picked up the sandwich, her stomach already rolling, and looked at Nana. Something inside grew a little stronger having Nana here. She took a bite.

Nana held her hair out of the way as it came back up. "Emmie, it's mind over matter." The steel iron in her voice left no room for doubt. "Take the soup."

It took several tries over the next hour. And then finally one spoonful stayed down.

"Alright. We wait for that to settle. Get up. We're going to bundle the baby and play with her outside."

She stared. "Nana, it's too cold for you - "

"I expect the baby to keep us too busy chasing her for us to get cold. Besides, Trudy said I can wear her things. Up, Emmie. We're going to get you better for when JJ comes home."


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews Awed, Caroltrivini, Fanofyours, Agrestic and Singingsilent! I read reviews when they come into my Gmail. I happened to click in the Reviews section to get names this time and realized there have been people reviewing whom I've not known about like Fic Reading and I-Made-U-Read-This! Hopefully I haven't been leaving people out of Author Note thanks too long!**

 **You all aren't brats for pestering me for updates, Singingsilent. :) I love it because sometimes if there aren't reviews for a few chapters in one of my stories, I wonder if readers are liking it/even care or if I should just drop off the story. It's hours of work to write a chapter, so it renews my energy to know readers are enjoying them. As I mentioned in my For Honor, Then Love story a couple weeks ago:** **My writing style is uncommon from what other published authors tell me in that I write the bones and then go through and apply the meat. Then I go through and fine-tune body language. Then I go through again and make the emotional connection to the readers/characters. Finally, I go through and edit. I technically should edit twice because I always miss things, but I'm doing this for fun and figure readers will forgive minor spelling/autocorrect and grammatical mistakes here and there. So, I'm actually reading/writing each chapter about 5 times to pull it all together. Hence, it takes me awhile to write a chapter. My Tinkerbelle series was easy to write fast, but these B &B stories have more depth and require more time (plus, I'm trying to be more professional with each story).**

 **BTW, I put up a poll to see if there's an interest in my Jason/Emma series and Mark/Tanya story if I turned them into ebooks for a small price. I'm seriously thinking of starting a blog (don't know about what yet) to be my main income because I love writing so much and interacting with followers (I hope they'd all be as nice as you all!). Maybe the ebooks would be the start of an author career. :) So, stop by my author page to vote in the poll. Please 1 vote per reader. Thanks!**

* * *

Nana had some kind of candy cane with ginger tea and honey concoction that somehow helped ease a degree of the nausea. Sitting in the cabin room beside Nana that night, she stared an old movie without really seeing it as the home nurse ran the second round of IV fluids for the day. A little sip of tea every fifteen minutes seemed to stay down.

"Where are all the foundlings?" Nana's milky eyes remained on the screen.

Wrapping her hands around the warmth of the cup in her lap, she sighed. "Several went back home with their families for the holidays permanently. Jason didn't want me here with Bobby, so Bobby and Lydia are at the new home in town. Jason hired social workers and everything so there are always adults at the home with the children. Two more children expect to be arriving in a couple weeks."

Nana looked at her. "You sound relieved."

She shook her head. "I miss Lydia, but she insisted on going back with Bobby so he wouldn't feel alone. She has far too much spunk for a nine-year-old child and doesn't mind handing his mouth back to him. He seems more tolerant since Thanksgiving. I went there to visit on Christmas." She looked down at her hands. "Bobby is going up for adoption, but Jason is feeling guilty because he's worried about Bobby being here with me and the children. Lydia's mother was 'sober enough' during Thanksgiving, so Lydia isn't up for adoption in the foreseeable future."

"But?"

"I think it's wonderful that Jason opened the home, but I don't know that I can take getting attached to children only to see them leave forever months or years later." Tears burned.

"Emmie." Nana's gnarled hand rested over hers. "You're missing JJ and the foundlings being out of the house is another big adjustment. And you don't need to feel guilt. It's a difficult job emotionally to work with foundlings and know they might not be going back to the best homes. Hopefully their homelife changes for the better. Having them here in your house made you even more attached - the new children won't be here like that."

"But they should experience a home life where they're loved and - "

Nana's hand tightened and those cloudy eyes met hers. "Children don't care where they find love, only that they have it. You can love them just as much visiting at the home as if they were living right here. You and JJ have a gift - you both have endless love. Not everyone is capable of that."

She shook her head. "Jay has that - I have no idea what I'm doing with children or how to handle anything. Jay just knows how to be a father and just love them."

A smile spread Nana's thin lips. "JJ is often looking to you for clues. He knows how to be a doctor, but when he's trying to be a father, I saw him glance at you often on Thanksgiving to see if you approved of what he was doing with Henrietta or Bobby. Not a soul is born just knowing how to be a parent. You stumble through as best you can and learn from your mistakes along the way. Drink your tea, Emmie. Then we will try ice cream."

"Ice cream?"

"The cold will ease your belly and put some weight on you too." Then Nana's hand drifted down and rested over the little bump. "JJ's not so far away - you have a piece of him right here to carry wherever you go. Email JJ."

"No." She swallowed down the lump that formed. "I just cry if I email him."

"You are so stubborn, Emmie. Give him a chance to help you through this. He was just about in tears when he called me a few days ago. Sometimes being too strong damages a marriage just as much as being too needy. Email him so you can't be interrupted by him having to go." Nana picked up the cell phone on the coffee table and handed it over.

Staring at the blank email for several minutes, she typed a few keys and then the words wouldn't stop pouring out with the tears.

 _Dear Jason,_

 _Nana arrived this morning. Thank you for sending her. She says to email you even though it makes me cry, because it's uninterrupted conversation._

 _I love you so much, but I'm so scared of you not coming back or something happening with the baby and you not being here for it. I don't know why and feel guilty for it because it's not your fault, but I'm so angry with you. I'm angry that you're so brave and damn heroic and have such dedication to this country. I'm angry that I wasn't there fifteen years ago to say that I'm too scared to be a soldier's wife. I'm angry that the government got to cast you aside and break your heart and make you doubt your self-worth after you were injured but it gets to rip you away from me and the babies now. I'm angry that you're so intelligent and good at what you do that the government took you away. You might not come home because of a car crash or some terrible accident on the way home, if it's not war that claims you. I cannot love a country if it costs me you._

 _You're probably angry that I'm acting like some entitled American who doesn't even know how good life is here because it's all I've ever known. Or that I don't have the unconditional love for my country that you do. If I have to choose between you and country, I'll always choose you. I'm proud of what you're brave enough to do and ashamed that I can't make you proud in return. All I know what to see right now is my husband, whose incredible sacrifice is meant with social ostracizing, had to leave without more than same-day notice to go God knows where and be amid God knows what for God knows how many months. I have no idea if you're cold, hungry, ill, struggling with your scars, under gunfire or at risk of being a POW. Nightmares find new ways of you being tortured and killed nightly. And I know you - I know if you were in the middle of a combat zone, you wouldn't tell me so I wouldn't worry. So I don't believe that you say you aren't._

 _I didn't tell you that I'm sick because I feared it being a distraction. And if you're in combat, distraction could cost your life. If I cause a miscarriage, you deserve to hate me to my face for killing our baby, to not have to deal with that grief on your own overseas._

 _Right now, the doctor says the baby is fine. Henrietta asks for you every day. We took pictures of her opening a couple Christmas presents but saved most of the gifts for when you're home._

 _We miss you so much and love you._

 _Em_

Then she hit Send and took the tissue that Nana offered. "It's a horrible email to send him," she sniffled.

"But one that needed to be done, Emmie. Sometimes better pastures come from terrible roads."

An hour later, the cell phone did a half ring but didn't connect to even show who called. It remained silent for the next hour, so she went to bed.

Climbing into the cold, empty bed yet another night, she rolled over and stared at the canopy. Some nights sleeping in Jason's bed offered comfort and other nights it made the ache worse. Tonight it made it worse. Getting up, she patted into her own room. The phone glowed on the nightstand from an incoming email.

Getting under the blankets, she opened up email. Jason had just sent a message.

 _My dear Emma,_

 _I tried to call but cannot get a signal to stay connected long enough, so I'm trying email._

 _My god, Emma, the anger and despair in your email frightens me - I had no idea you felt like this. I wish you would've told me sooner._

 _I don't blame you for being angry that I left. Even I have conflicting emotions of anger and pride to be away from you and serving. If something does happen with the baby, I would never blame you. Because of a decision I made years ago and my choices to move into the division I did, I've put you in a position that I never dreamed of making my wife suffer through. I don't want you to go through a loss by yourself. I vow I'm not in combat and any distressing news you have won't cause me to make poor life-and-death decisions._

 _I am trying so hard to figure out ways to be with you through this even though I'm miles away. I beg you to embrace the options that we do have when we do have them - email, phone, snail mail, IM, video chat - to let me be there for you._

 _I'm having so much trouble with homesickness for you and the babies. I don't know how to handle this because there was nothing for me to really miss before when I was deployed. There's an aching hole for you that doesn't leave even in dreams of you._

 _I am lucky this time - I don't want for any physical comforts on this deployment, and my skin isn't having issues with holding up. There's extreme security, which is my biggest obstacle in reaching you. I wish I could tell you the mission because you'd be so much less worried. Just remember that high security means safety - do not worry if I'll come home. Watch the news. You will figure it out._

 _I'm glad you're waiting to give Henrietta some presents for when I'm home. I'd ask if she was excited, but I'm not sure I could handle right now hearing what I missed for her first Christmas with us. And our first Christmas since marrying. It sounds stupid and cliché, but would you buy an artificial tree so we can have Christmas when I get home? I wanted to call on Christmas, but I was selfish because I don't know that I would've been able to take hearing you...it's the worst time of year to be away from home, with the exception of the baby's birth. Never in my life had I wept from homesickness._

 _I know emails are difficult for you to write, but I hope you will continue. Even if I call and there's more you want to say, send me an email. You need this outlet and to not feel alone. And I need to feel like I'm there supporting you as best I can from here._

 _Internet signal is cutting out. Send me photos, Em. I wish I could hold you, even for one night. I love and miss you. Give my love to Henrietta and the baby._

 _Yours forever,_

 _Jay_

She sniffled. It was harder to read about his homesickness than feel her own terrible ache for him. He didn't sound like there was any hope of him returning anytime soon. She sent another email.

 _Try calling me. I love you._

Clutching the phone to wait for his call, she held a breath. One minute. Two.

The phone rang and she hit the button, her heart beating faster with need to comfort him. "Jay?"

"E - " It cut out. Static. "Em - " More static and the line went dead.

So she sent another email.

 _Are you getting Internet? There's a chat feature on email._ _I love you. Don't be homesick, Jay. We'll always be here waiting for you._

Two o'clock in the morning came and went with no response.


	25. Chapter 25

Over the lunch hour, she turned on the news on the laptop. The Middle East war, terrorist attacks in Europe, the U.S. President going to China... Terrorist attacks. SEALS might be sent in for that. It would be high security but not exactly out of danger.

The front doorbell rang. Trudy's footsteps clicked across the foyer to the front door.

But the terrorist attacks hadn't been on the news before this when Jason had said to watch.

The cell phone rang. Blocked number. She snatched it up. "Jay?"

"Hello, sweetheart." He spoke very quiet, probably to not wake everyone else sleeping. "I only have until I get caught, but I wanted to make sure you're doing better after last night."

Trudy walked in with a huge bouquet of white roses. "These arrived for you, don'tcha know. I wonder who they're from." The woman winked and set the case on the desk.

A smile bloomed so wide that it hurt. Her heart melted as she stood and dug out the card. Leave it to Jason to figure out a way to be romantic and do something to make things feel a little less sad. "Ohhh, Jay, you sent roses?"

"What?" His dry retort didn't sound pleased.

Opening the card, the smile slipped away.

 _Consider it an olive branch for a second chance._

 _David Henry_

"I have no way of sending you flowers. Who sent you roses?" The man sounded ready to punch someone.

"David Henry. A peace offering."

"Roses?!" Then he lowered his voice. "Damn son of a bitch sends my wife roses," he muttered in a deep growl.

A soft smile tugged. "They're just white."

"I don't care if they're weeds, he has no business sending you anything!"

"You have no reason to be jealous."

"Jealous? I'm not jealous - that'd mean punching him. I'll rip his damn head off," he grumbled. "If I was there, I'd carry you into the bedroom and... He can shove his roses where the sun don't shine."

A laugh burst out. "Jay, you know I love _you_."

He cleared his throat, his tone taking on a sad note. "And would you still love a soldier who, for the foreseeable future, is more likely than not to fall from your graces?"

"I wrote that email when I was upset, Jay. I'm not proud of it - "

"Neither should you be ashamed of it. It was written in a moment of truth, which needed to be released lest it fester. I ask that you remember we made a vow to always be honest with each other, no matter how painful."

"Jay? What's wrong?"

He released a deep breath. "Emma, I fear I won't be home as soon as I was promised."

"You're not in the hospital, are you?"

"No." He spoke so very quietly and seemed to hesitate.

"Will you still be home by then?" By the birth?

"I don't count on anything anymore." His voice cracked. "I can't do this. Not knowing when I'll talk to you next or when I'm coming home..." The words quivered like he might cry.

Tears burned. Now it was her turn to be strong. "Honey, it's alright. You'll be home by then. What if I record audios of my letters and send them to you each day? Then it's like we're talking."

"I won't be home for that thing coming up soon." He fell apart into quiet tears. He must mean her birthday and probably their anniversary too. "I'm missing everything."

"Hey now, we can do those when you get home." God, it was so hard to hear him this sad and homesick.

"But there is no repeat for missing more ultrasounds," he croaked.

Her heart stopped. The next beat hurt. He meant he wouldn't be home for the five-month ultrasound of the baby. He'd be gone through February yet. Even though tears fell, he needed her to be strong - he needed to be the one to fall apart right now. Brushing at her eyes, she swallowed hard. "Jay, we'll record it if you can't video chat - "

"I'm missing everything." His voice cracked.

"No, you're not. You'll be home sooner than you think. I'll keep a pregnancy video diary and send it to you every other day."

He sniffled. "Are you getting better?"

"I was able to keep a few spoonfuls of soup down at lunch. Nana makes a ginger tea that I'm able to sip. The doctor said if I'm able to keep down four cups a day, she'll stop IV fluids."

"Em," he gulped in a sob, "you can't lose the baby. I don't think they'll let me leave to be there with you."

"Oh my goodness, Jay, what happened? You're so sad."

"I thought I'd be half way done by now. It's not even close."

So he'd be gone at least through March. "Jay, listen to me. I'll send you videos every day, and I'll make OB appointments for in the mornings so maybe you can call in. The doctor wants me in every week until I'm able to eat more. I have an appointment the day after New Years at nine."

"I'll try." He sounded so devastated. A deep voice filled the background. "Em, I have to go. I love you."

"I love you. Don't be sad, Jay. We'll figure this out so its like you're here. Bye."

"Bye." He released a shakey breath and hung up.

She had to get this stress under control because it took a toll on Jason and now he was terrified of her losing the babe. The doctor said the babe was doing alright, but still...it was time to suck it up and be a soldier's wife.

She turned on the news. More wars, a bombing in the Middle East said to be done by a terrorist group, the Prime Ministers in Europe to meet, the U.S. President coming back home, the Queen of England on tour and a failed secret mission to catch an ISIS leader. Sending up a silent prayer did little to ease the fear that perhaps Jason was part of the ISIS mission.

An email came a little after midnight that evening.

 _My dearest love,_

 _Forgive me for distressing you earlier. It was night here, and that's when I struggle with missing you most. Less than an hour before, I'd learned of not returning home soon and had a hard time accepting the news._

 _With New Years Eve just days away, the homesickness is even worse, if possible._ _I'd planned on taking you to a flat we own over Times Square. Yes, I just realized I've never mentioned that. That first New Years we texted, I knew I wanted to take you sometime to see the ball drop in person, and I purchased a flat as an investment, if nothing else. Do you remember when you said you were a homebody? I fell a little more in love with you while texting - it was you I meant when I said I'd prefer to spend New Year's with cuddled in bed and watch the view._

 _I have no signal or I would've called. Have to go. I love you._

 _Your loving husband,_

 _Jay_

* * *

New Years Eve morning dragged past. After his romantic email about New York, it made missing him worse than ever. But no more tears. No matter how much it hurt. No matter how much fear that he'd never come home. It took three tries to get cereal down. Sheer will power finally kept down a half cup of oatmeal.

Henrietta had fun smashing frosting on cookies in her highchair to decorate the batch that Pete had made. Trudy laughed across the kitchen table and worked on frosting some herself. Nana tried to figure out how to take pictures with her smartphone.

"Nana, let me show you." She leaned over.

"No! When I'm old you can show me. I can keep up with you whippersnappers." Then she mumbled to herself and continued to fumble through screens.

So she went back to helping Henrietta.

"Ah!"

Everyone jumped and looked at Nana.

"Got it! See, I'm a technology geek." Nana grinned and snapped a photo. "Gonna send this to JJ. How do you email it...?" Then she buried her face in the phone again.

Pete stepped in the kitchen, his face serious. He held her coat and overnight bag. "I received an email from Jason."

Shooting up so fast that the chair toppled over, she grabbed the table to steady her trembling knees. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know if anything happened to him. He only said you're to go to New York and not be worried."

"What?"

"He was specific that I'm to put you on the jet. A taxi will be waiting for you." Distress filled his eyes.

"Why?" Her hand flew to rest on the little bump. A specialist. He might've set up an appointment to see a specialist for the baby but didn't want to say yet so she wouldn't stress on the way there. "Is something wrong with the baby?"

Pete stared at the floor for a moment. "I don't know. If I didn't trust that he must have good reason, I'd be furious over him sending you alone to New York of all places."

The air crackled with tension on the ride to the airport. Her stomach twisted as she stroked the baby and stared out the window at the snow-covered mountains. "Do you think they need to run special tests to make sure the baby's alright being I can't eat much?"

"I don't know, but I don't think it's right he doesn't even tell you what's going on." Pete growled and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the steeringwheel so hard the leather creaked.

"Maybe it's really bad and he thinks it best to not tell me." She glanced at him.

His jaw muscles flexed as he ground his teeth but offered no words. This was a first seeing him angry with Jason.

"It's alright, Emmie. JJ wouldn't send you to something bad alone," Nana said from the backseat. "Don't drop me in Chicago - I'll go with you to New York."

She looked at Nana. "Thank you, but that's an awful lot of traveling. Plus, I don't know that you should be walking around New York."

Nana gave a fierce look and held up her cane. "Any dumbass punk tries to hurt my Emmie, I'll beat his ass. I'm the perfect bodyguard, Emmie - they don't expect my ninja moves. I beat up Monkeyshit, didn't I?"

Smothering a smile, she nodded. "Yes, you did."

On the plane before takeoff, Pete jerked her close and gave a bear hug. "I have half a mind to go with you, but I have to trust that he knows what he's doing. If things aren't good, you call, you hear? We'll get on the jet and shoot over. We can pick up your mother on the way."

"Okay." She gave a tight hug, needing any extra strength he could give to calm the nerves.

Then he said goodbye to Nana and got off the plane.

She sat beside Nana and typed an email.

 _Jay,_

 _Why am I going to New York? Are you hurt? Is there something wrong with the baby? Nana's on the jet and said she's coming with. Pete wanted to also, but he said he'll trust that you know what you're doing._

 _Em_

No reply for an hour - an hour of misery that led to vomiting from stress.

"Emmie, you have to stop this for the baby," Nana snapped and held her hair back in the washroom. "This is all from your head."

"What if the baby - "

"'What if' nothing! I'm asking the stewardess for a can of soup or something. I don't care if you have to tape your mouth shut, it _will_ stay down."

It took a great deal of effort, but almost half a can of chicken noodle soup stayed down. When she sank into the seat next to Nana after another false alarm run to the bathroom, she held her head.

"She just came back from the washroom. You talk to her because she's going to throw that baby right up soon." Nana shoved the cell phone at her. "It's JJ."

She snatched the phone. "Jay? What's wrong?"

"Come alone. T - " Then the line cut off with static from a lost connection.

* * *

If New York was always busy, it was insane New Year's Eve afternoon. The taxi sat and sat and sat in traffic. A good thing Nana returned to Chicago - she'd probably insist on walking at this pace.

The taxi driver turned around in his seat after crawling another two blocks. "Here's your stop."

She blinked. "My stop? You said you had instructions to take me - "

"Lady, I was told when we got to here to kick you out of the car. Thirty bucks."

Raising her eyebrows, she gave him the money and got out in the middle of the street. The crowd on the sidewalks was so heavy that it even overflowed into the streets. She pulled out the phone to email Jason. A text message waited from a blocked number.

 _Walk north fifty paces when the taxi driver tells you to get out. Keep your purse inside your coat._

And then it dawned - Jason was sending her to the flat to watch the ball drop, and he'd probably call in for video chat over his lunch break to watch the ball at midnight with her. But it didn't seem like him to send her all alone to New York. Swallowing down the homesickness for him, she tucked her purse in her coat and started walking. The crowds jostled and pushed, making it hard to do anything but keep pace. And then there it was - Jason's scent. In a blink, it was gone. Turning and raising onto her toes, she scanned the heads as the crowd kept pushing her along.

A chill skittered up her back. Two words on the phone hadn't been distinct enough to know for certain it was Jason. With Nana's hearing going, it could've been any man who had called. This didn't make sense. Jason wouldn't send her alone to New York and to get out in a busy crowd like this. The phone vibrated with another text.

 _Go inside._

Someone watched. Looking up at the building, it was an abandoned theatre house. This definitely wasn't Jason. Panic set in. Pulling out her phone, she moved to the edge of the crowd and dialed Pete, letting them sweep her past the theatre.

"Emma?" Pete sounded stressed.

"Pete, I don't think it's Jason. I ended up at an abandoned theatre and got an anonymous text saying to go inside. Jason wouldn't do this."

"No. Stay in the crowds and keep walking. I'm picking up your cell GPS. You're a block from a police station."

"Okay." Her voice shook and she picked up speed, stepping around a dumpster sticking out of an alley. "Can - " A black figure stepped out from the corner of her eye, clamped a hand over her mouth and yanked her into the alley so fast that no one even stopped to look.

Nostrils flared with pants of panic and she struggled against the rock-hard grip locked around her arms. The twisted pervert leaned his head down near her ear and instinct took hold. A deep voice mumbled in her ear, but the panic made the words indecipherable. No, no, no. Shit. He could kill the baby. Then Jason's words came slamming back. _Fight, Emma!_ The paralyzing fear fled, replaced with rage. Her feet scrambled to keep up with being dragged backwards and find balance to fight, so she chomped down on the glove as hard as possible. The split instant that the monster yelped in pain was all it took for him to let go, and she flung her head back into his sternum.

"Ow! God bless it, stop!"

She whirled around to knee him where it counts, but something about his voice finally registered.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned her up against the brick wall, jerking the sweatshirt hood off to leave only a ski mask. "For god's sake, I beg you, don't knee me. I was really counting on making love to you."

"Jason?" THe shock didn't really sink in.

A smile blossomed. "I'm on twenty-four hour leave. I didn't mean to frighten you. I - "

She jerked him down and crushed his mouth with a kiss.

When she came up for air, she searched his eye. "Why the secrecy?"

"We're back for just a couple days. We're allowed to go but not travel far. I can't tell you more."

Her eyes widened. "You're guarding the President on his travels, aren't you?" She kept her voice low to avoid being overheard.

"I can't tell you anything." But his eye lit up like he was relieved she finally knew.

"How long do we have?"

"Until tomorrow afternoon." He pressed a kiss to her lips and then grabbed her hand. "Come." He turned and opened a locked door of the building next to the old theatre.

She followed him up a back staircase and down a very fine hallway with thick red carpet and expensive looking lights hanging on the walls.

He stopped at a door and unlocked it. "This, my dear, is our flat to watch the ball drop tonight." He opened the door, and she stepped inside.

Large windows lined the far wall and faced Time Square. Plush ivory carpet spread across the wide floor. Beautiful, puffy red furniture adorned the living room area and opened to a kitchen with the latest appliances. The sparse furnishings left ample room for a toddler to run around. When he pulled her into the bedroom, her mouth fell open.

A large white bed sat in the middle of the room with an electric fireplace along one wall and a long antique dresser lining the other wall. The bed faced a wall of windows - perfectly romantic for New Year's Eve The view was breathtaking.

"Jay, it's beautiful." Her heart sank a little and she turned to him. "Why didn't you want to see Henrietta, though?"

He smiled. "Trudy and Pete are going to bring her this evening. I wasn't sure how fast everyone could get ready at the last minute." He slid her coat down and then shrugged off his own. "Plus," he added in a husky voice, "I needed to properly greet my wife after a month." He pulled off the ski mask and leaned down to kiss.

She caught his face in her hands and tears welled. "Just let me touch, to feel that you're really here."

Jason held tight for a few moments, the beating of his heart so gentle and comforting. After a minute, he let go and closed the drapes. "Let me see the baby." So much hope and excitement filled his eyes. When she lifted her sweater with hot cheeks to reveal the small swell, he sank to his knees and cupped her belly in his hands. "You're so beautiful, Emma," he whispered and set his lips to the babe. He stood and caught her sweater when she let it down. "I have almost five weeks to make up for. Let me see the babe awhile longer." He stepped behind and cupped her bare belly while pressing a kiss to her neck. "Are you able to eat more?"

"I kept a half can of chicken noodle soup and a half cup of oatmeal down today."

"Good girl," he purred and nibbled just below her ear. He pulled her closer against his hips.

"You're terrible, Jay." But she let him pull off the sweater and he stopped in surprise. She curled her hand up under her chin to cover up in embarrassment. "I forgot you haven't seen since the hormones really kicked in."

"You're beautiful." He shed his own shirt and wrapped his arms around, pulling her against his bare chest. "It feels like a hundred years, Em," he sighed and his eyes drifted shut, as if he missed the simple touch of her skin. His head bowed and he kissed, slowly backing up to the bed. "I love you, Emma," he whispered. "I've missed you every moment of every day. Tonight is not enough, my Emma."


	26. Chapter 26

She laid down and cuddled up to him with a smile. "I'm tired."

"I should say so - you spent me several times. But that was unbelievably hot, Em." He rolled on top and kissed her neck.

A giggle bubbled up, and she pushed him off. "I'm hungry."

He grinned. "Far be it from me to keep a pregnant woman from food." The man hopped out of bed and pulled on his clothes. "What sounds good? There's a grocery on the corner."

"Are you offering to run a crazy pregnancy craving errand?"

"You're hardly keeping food down. If I have to run to China for food that you want, I will." The crazy man was dressed already.

"I'll come with you. Strawberries sound wonderful."

"Strawberries? You need more than that." He frowned and helped her dress.

It was nice to do something as simple as hold hands and walk down the street. "I miss this. How much longer before you come home?"

The happy gleam in his eye disappeared and he looked straight ahead. "You know I can't answer that."

She held his hand with both of hers. "Should I be ready to give birth without you?" Even the thought of it hurt.

He pulled her into the grocery store that was as small as it was crowded and led the way toward the fruit section, not even acknowledging the question.

"Jay?" She planted her feet, pulling him to a halt.

But he didn't turn for a second. When he did, grief shined in his eyes. "I don't know," he snapped.

She swallowed hard and let go of his hand to go over to the strawberries.

He stepped up beside her. "I'm sorry. This is really hard on both of us. If I had a choice, I'd have been home yesterday."

"It was only a question. Mom almost hemorrhaged having me," she said quietly and picked through the cartons. "I'm scared of childbirth and not having you there too."

"We need to take this a day at a time." He rubbed her back. "Being prepared for the worst will only make us more stressed."

She nodded. But things weren't quite the same the rest of the shopping trip.

* * *

The doorbell rang that afternoon. She opened it to Pete and Trudy standing there with Henrietta. The moment those little eyes saw her, Henrietta shrieked and ran forward with her arms outstretched.

She knelt down and took the hug. "How's my baby? Did you have fun on the airplane?"

Babble replied as the adorable love bounced her legs to bob up and down in excitement.

Then she turned with Henrietta. "Is that Daddy?"

The little darling jammed her fists in her mouth and screeched with excitement, her little legs flailing as fast as possible to get to him as he knelt near the bedroom doorway with a huge grin. She leaned forward too much and plunked face first into the carpet, but she put her hands down, got her little legs up, and then pushed her torso upright and ran again. This time, her arms stuck out for balance as she teetered from her run. "Odd-eeee!" The screech was ear piercing and probably hurt with Jason's hearing device, but he didn't seem to care.

He laughed and scooped up his daughter, cuddling her tight. "How's my baby?"

Tears welled at the sight of him kiss Henrietta and bury his face in her hair and weep. She walked over to them.

He shifted Henrietta to one arm and wrapped his other around her. "I missed my girls," he sniffled and kissed her and Henrietta again as he held on tight.

"Wy?" Henrietta patted his damp ski mask and made a sad face like she was confused. "Owie?"

He smiled. "No, love. Daddy's not crying because of an owie, I'm just happy to see you and Mama."

Henrietta pulled at his mouth.

"That's her new thing when she wants you to smile," she explained.

He laughed and kissed Henrietta's cheek. "You're learning so much, poppet." Then he stepped forward and shook hands with Pete and gave Trudy a hug. "Thank you for bringing her." After exchanging pleasantries and getting Pete and Trudy settled in bedrooms on the other side of the kitchen, he took her hand and carried Henrietta into the master bedroom.

Jason closed the drapes and climbed on the bed with Henrietta. "Come sit, love. I think we need family snuggle time." He grinned as he held Henrietta's hands while she did her best to jump on the bed. Then the little darling dropped herself into his lap and curled against his chest. His eyes lifted to meet hers. "I miss this." His voice came out thick with emotion.

She climbed on the bed and laid down beside him, closing her eyes.

"Are you tired, love?" He stroked her belly.

"All the time," she yawned.

"Then we shall take a nap. You're probably due for a nap too, poppet." He stroked her belly as he laid down with Henrietta curled up on his chest.

The little one babbled with her eyes closed until her words faded away and she breathed in a deep slumber.

He pulled a blanket over Henrietta and kept a hand on the back of her head.

"Has the Foundation tried to reach you? I haven't heard a word from them for awhile." Too long, it seemed like.

"Yes," he sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "I've heard from Ms. Williamson a few times." Then he turned his head and looked at her lying on her side. "There's a meeting next week for the board to discuss construction of another hospital wing."

She cracked a smile. "That sounds like a hint to go."

"Only if you're interested - you could attend through teleconference. Obviously not being a board member, you could not cast a vote. However, it would be beneficial should you voice the pros and cons you see in their proposal."

"Jason, you have some of the world's brightest minds there. I do not think it is wise for me to walk in with my two cents."

He shrugged. "The board was impressed with you before and respect your opinions. I do not think they'd have objections."

* * *

"Let me see the baby." So much hope and excitement filled his eyes. When she lifted her sweater with hot cheeks to reveal the small swell, he sank to his knees and cupped her belly in his hands. "You're so beautiful, Emma," he whispered and set his lips to the babe.

Henrietta waddled over and lifted her shirt way up for him. "Eee too!"

Laughter filled the room. "You too?" He scooped her up and kissed her round little pooch. Then he pointed. "Mama has a baby growing in her tummy." He stroked. "You have to be very soft. The baby will come out in the summer when it's hot outside."

Henrietta copied his strokes and then leaned forward like she tried to see inside. Leaning back and looking at Jason, she swung her head vigorously from side to side.

"No?" He chuckled. "You don't see the baby?"

The darling lifted her shirt and pointed to her own belly.

"No, you're still like a baby. There's no baby in your tummy. Mama's tummy will get bigger as the baby grows, and then the baby will come out. You'll be a big sister."

Henrietta wiggled to get down and play, so Jay set her down. She walked over to the electric fireplace and stood there staring up at the flickering flames.

"It's not hot, so she won't get hurt." He stood and caught her sweater when she let it down. "I have almost five weeks to make up for. Let me see the babe awhile longer." He stepped behind and cupped her bare belly while pressing a kiss to her neck. "Are you able to eat more?"

"The strawberries are staying down, but I'm reluctant to push anything else yet. Henrietta is probably getting hungry for dinner."

With a grin, he scooped up Henrietta and slipped out the door. He returned minutes later without her.

Her eyes widened. "You didn't - "

"No, I didn't ask them to babysit. Henrietta was enthralled with getting food out of the refrigerator to help Stevens cook. He suggested that I go spend time with my wife." His smile grew.

"Jay, I don't really feel up to..." She blinked when he laid on the bed beside her and stroked her belly.

"No, let's just be together. Look." He got up and opened the tall drapes.

A soft gasp escaped and she sat up. The New York skyline was beautiful. "Oh, Jay. We can see the ball drop from here too?" She got up and walked to the window.

He set an arm around her waist. "Yes, right there." He pointed to a building nearby where hundreds of people began to swarm the streets below. "I laid in best last New Year's Eve when we were texting. I wished to be here with you for the next one." His voice fell to a husky purr.

She smiled and turned in his arms to rest her head on his chest. "I don't want tomorrow to come."

"I know, my love." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Thinking about tomorrow will make us too sad, and it'll rob us of tonight. Just be here with me."

Henrietta slept curled up in a tiny ball on the side of the bed against the baby railing that Trudy had thought to bring.

Jason held her in his arms, stroking her belly as the electronic fireplace crackled and warmed the room. The television blared the New Year's festivities in the background, with another few minutes until midnight. There was something so special and magical about simply being in the moment with Jason and not speaking. He handed her a champagne glass of orange juice and took one for himself. "It was the best year of my life, but I know each one will get better. Challenges will only make us grow closer, love. To a wonderful New Year with our new family."

* * *

The bed was empty when she woke up, cold even. She rolled toward his pillow, the knot of dread already forming in her stomach before she opened her eyes. He was gone. On his pillow lay a note in his elegant scrawl.

 _Forgive me, Emma. I promised almost another day, but I received a call at five o'clock. We are sometimes told incorrect departure times for security reasons; apparently this was one of them. I hate that they stole another day with you. The right thing to do would've been to wake you up to say goodbye, but...I'm so devastated that it's hard enough watching you sleep and not cry knowing that I must leave you and the babies again._

 _Send me pictures of your belly. I didn't realize exactly how beautifully pregnant you look until I saw you in-person yesterday. Now I understand what I'm missing, and it makes it that much harder to go. I will have better reception to make contact, hopefully daily, this time around. I love you and the babies._

 _I leave my heart behind with you,_

 _Jay_

It was hard to be without him again, but something about having even one night with him gave renewed strength to go on.

* * *

Her birthday passed, along with their one-year wedding anniversary. He sent a text every other night. Whether he received her long emails or not went unanswered. She watched the news every day. The President was in the midst of negotiations with Middle East officials, and times were tense. Security for Jason was likely very stringent. As international tensions rose, Jason's texts fell to a word: Alive. That single word from an untraceable phone kept her heart beating for the next forty-eight hours until the next check-in would come.

* * *

She turned on the news one night at the end of January. It had become like a religious obsession to watch every glimpse, every press conference, every bit of news about the President in hopes of spotting Jason. Like a good Navy SEAL, he was never caught on camera.

The news camera showed the President get out of the car and reach to shake hands with a Middle Eastern diplomat on live stream. Gunfire exploded.

The camera shook as the cameraman and reporter ran for cover, catching glimpses of security rush the President back into the car. Yelling and shouting. Men in heavy armor swarmed the car and fired large rifles - they acted like security for the President.

Rushing to the TV, she dropped to her knees to be eye level. One of them might be Jason. Her heart thundered and eyes scanned the screen for a glimpse of a mask. Too much movement for a clear view as the cameraman ran.

A scream ripped out of her throat as one of the securitymen in black fell. "No!"

Trudy and Pete ran into the cabin room.

"Jason! I can't tell if it was Jason who was shot!" She banged a hand against the TV, as if somehow able to still the shaking and get a closer look by doing so.

"We have a SWAT member down," the reporter said, her voice shaking.

"It's alright, it's not him." Pete grabbed her shoulders to calm her. "It's alright."

"Correction, it's Navy SEALS - " THe reporter stopped for a moment as more gunfire broke out. The camera feed lost connection for a minute. "Two SEALS down! It's unclear who is attacking! It seems to be an ambush! Shots are coming from rooftops and windows! Security was stationed everywhere!"

A boom silenced the microphone. Smoke obscured the camera. As the smoke cleared, the camera caught image. It laid on it's side. A glimpse of body parts on the dirt road before the in-studio news cut back to the screen.

"We'll give you an update as soon as we hear what's going on. Next, sports news - "

Her hands cupped over her mouth in horror as tears streamed down. "Jason. He was right there for the suicide bomb. What if that was him?"

Trudy cradled her to her chest and rocked. "It wasn't him. It's alright. He'll contact you in the next few hours to say he's fine."

Pushing to her feet, she ran for her cell phone. Maybe he'd reply to email if he knew she saw what had happened. Sending a quick email, she frantically flipped over to text. It would be fruitless, but she had to try.

 _Saw attack. You alright?_

It beeped a second later. Failed delivery.

Pacing and flipping news channels the next five hours led to nothing except experts giving their speculations about what happened.

The next day, her phone rang. She snatched it up. "Jason? Are you alright?"

"Mrs. Port? This is General Morrison."

The world stopped.

"Is this Mrs. Emma Port?'

She sank to the floor. "Is he dead?" The words barely squeezed out of her throat, the grief so crippling that even tears refused to form.

"No, ma'm. He's alive but in a coma. I shouldn't be calling you personally like this, but I know how difficult he found it to be away from home. He's being flown back to the States today. He'll arrive at a VA hospital in New York. They relieved the pressure on his brain. He just has bumps and bruises otherwise."

"I don't understand. Only the mortally wounded are shipped back." She gasped in air, unable to breathe.

"He's critical and needs the expertise of our neuro surgeons. They have hope that he'll survive, but the full extent of brain damage is unknown. Get a flight out there. He'll likely already be in surgery when you arrive." The line went dead.

* * *

Room twenty-six in the ICU. She ran down the hospital halls, not even waiting for Pete and Trudy to follow. Charging into the room, she stopped in her tracks in shock to see Jason reclined in bed and awake. The only difference was a bandage around his head and the scarred side of his face, and some nicks and bruises on his face and arms.

A doctor in surgical scrubs stood beside the bed and smiled. "There she is."

Jason gave no sign of recognition.

She walked slowly to the other side of the bed and set her hand over his. When he simply looked at her, she turned her attention to the surgeon. "I'm his wife. I was told he was in a coma and had to have pressure relieved?"

"Yes, they did it overseas. A nice job too. He arrived conscious and stable enough that we'll watch him rather than jump into surgery. He has normal pupil reflexes and EEG. The CT scan and other tests show minimal swelling now. However, he has a traumatic brain injury. Such an injury can manifest in many ways, whether through emotional, physical or mental function."

She shook her head. "I don't understand." A glance at Jason revealed him still looking at her.

"A lot of this could reverse in the next few days, so we don't know the extent of brain injury. We think the swelling has affected his speech. So far, he hasn't spoken. He seems to have difficulty comprehending things, as well as difficulty with movement."

"What do you mean? How can you not know?"

"Much of the brain is still a mystery. He was given anesthesia and had a severe concussion and the TBI, so there are a multitude of factors going on. He could rapidly improve. Let's see if he recognizes you." The doctor turned to Jason. "Jason, do you know who she is?"

He just blinked at her, his expression not blank but not showing recognition either.

"Jason, can you squeeze my hand?"

His fingers twitched, and he turned his hand over under hers. The movement wasn't fluid, but it seemed like a sign of recognition.

She dug a pen and the back of the checkbook out. "Can you write something, sweetheart?" She set the pen in his hand.

He held it in his fist like a toddler, and the lines were squiggly. But he wrote it. Emma.

"Good," the doctor smiled. "Amnesia is likely not a problem, and he is conscious enough to follow directions."

"But that's not how he writes."

"That's alright. He has a very good chance of improving with time. We'll do some more tests, but rest will be very beneficial for him. He will likely be aware of his limitations but not put the two and two together at first that he has them. It's not uncommon for patients to become frustrated or have mood swings with TBI. I'll have a psychologist and rehab and some other specialists come in and talk."

It was overwhelming. So much information and it was all guesses yet about what was wrong with him. Trudy kept Henrietta occupied with walks down the hall while Pete helped her try to keep everything straight that everyone said.

Jason looked blankly at people and her, seeming to not understand anything that people said. He didn't respond to things that people asked him to do, even though his movements seemed to become a bit smoother as the anesthesia fully wore off. After a bit, he simply stared at the sheets.

"I think maybe he needs to rest now." She nodded toward him while talking to the therapist. Pete walked the therapist out and went to find Trudy and Henrietta to get supper.

Once alone with him, she sat on the edge of the bed and set her hand on his thigh. "You understand more than they think, don't you?"

His eye drifted up to her, a bit more clarity in his eye than earlier.

"Do you hurt at all? There's a pain button right here so you can take more meds if you need." She reached across the bed and set it in his hand. "Do you hurt?"

He set the button down and pulled his hand away, staring at the sheets again. It was like he was sad, not having trouble understanding things.

"Did they tell you why you're here?"

That got his attention.

"When you were in the Middle East, you were helping protect the President. I saw a suicide bomb go off while watching the news. You were caught in the blast, and they had to do brain surgery to release the pressure."

A frown touched his brow, the first expression he'd given all afternoon. His fingers drifted up to touch the bandage.

"Can you speak? We think maybe the injury is making it difficult for you to talk."

His lips didn't move quite right, and his words came out like a garbled moan. That blue eye widened like he'd frightened himself.

Her heart pounded, not having expected that either, but she set her hands over his. "That's alright. It'll just take some time. Your brain is still swollen. In the meantime, you can point or write what you need."

He blinked hard all of the sudden. And got sick right in his lap.

She hit the nurse's button and grabbed a basin as he got sick again.

"That's probably the anesthesia," the young nurse said as she bustled in with a syringe. "Are you having double vision, sweetie?"

Again, he blinked hard and turned green. And then he tilted to the side.

"I think you need to call the doctor."

The nurse ran out as she held his shoulders back against the pillow. "Hold onto me. Does it feel like everything is spinning, Jay?"

He held her forearms and stilled the moment she covered his eye.

A doctor walked in and looked at the blood pressure reading. "Sometimes TBI can cause blood pressure to go crazy." He ordered the nurse to inject some medicine into the IV line, and Jason's color gradually returned. Then he pointed to a monitor. "There's a catheter monitoring his cranial pressure. It's creeping up just a bit again, which might've contributed to the dizziness. The nurse will help get him cleaned up, and then we'll release just a little cerebral-spinal fluid from an epidural-like line we have in his spine."

She burst into tears all of the sudden - the brain and spinal catheters a surprise that somehow tipped her over the edge. "I'm sorry, I'm just overwhelmed."

The nurse helped strip Jason and the bedding. "That's perfectly normal. It's hard seeing a loved one in the hospital, much less with injuries that we don't even fully know yet."

Grabbing the spare hospital gown, she draped it over him to keep him modest as fast as possible.

He caught her hands and pulled her against his chest, not seeming to realize he had EKG wires in the way. Then his hand moved under hers, the movements not quite as smooth as usual. _I feel better. Don't cry._

That earned a watery laugh of wonderful surprise. "You remember how to sign and are aware enough?" She wrapped her arms around him very carefully and wept with relief. He would be alright.

* * *

"Jay, you need to cooperate with the nurse," she scolded the next morning.

The nurse reached to do the bandage change, but he turned his head away and pointed to her.

"I can't, Jay. I know nothing about brain injuries, and this has to be incredibly sterile so you don't get a brain infection. I will sit right here and smack the nurse if she reacts to your burns." She sat on the edge of the bed and glanced at the nurse, who gave an understanding smile.

"My brother was a firefighter and got hurt pretty bad on the job. I helped him change bandages. I won't embarrass you. Mrs. Port already explained what the burns look like. I've seen a lot of IED burns and things that are much more impressive," she teased.

Jason gave the nurse a long look, as if uncertain if she was serious, and sat still. He gave no sign of pain during the bandage change, but he didn't give much sign of anything with his eye downcast.

A small drop of blood ran down the side of Jason's face from the incision. She glanced at the nurse.

"A little bit of incision bleeding is normal because it's still fresh. Do you have a headache or any incision pain, sweetie?"

The poor man sat as tense as could be, visibly drawing into himself.

She picked up a stray, fresh gauze and dabbed away the blood on his warped cheek.

His eye flew to her.

"I know you're in there, Jay. You have to let me in so I can help, though."

One word was all it took to break her heart. He looked at her with the saddest gaze and signed _home_.

"I know, honey. We'll go home as soon as we can. Henrietta is here with Trudy. Do you want to see her?"

He nodded.

"I'll go find them right after your dressing change." She pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

Henrietta was fast asleep by the time she got back to Jason's room. "Trudy said she was running all over in the halls and wore herself out."

He held out his arms for her.

"Here, I'll lay her on your chest because you're not supposed to be lifting much weight."

Thankfully, the man didn't protest and reclined back against the pillows. His arms wrapped around the little princess the moment she laid her on him. It took only moments for his eye to drift closed in slumber too.

She moved to take Henrietta when his grip relaxed enough. The moment she lifted the girl from his chest, he startled awake. "It's just me. You fell asleep, and I didn't want her to fall. I'll send her with Trudy and Pete to sleep at the condo."

He yawned and scooted over in bed to make room.

"No, honey. You need sound sleep. I'll sleep on a cot." The poor thing was asleep again before she left his room.

* * *

An odd grunt and moan woke her up from her cot, the noises peppered with odd beeps. She blinked in the morning light. Jason reclined in bed, his complexion white as he tried to reach the nurse's button. She shot off the cot and hit it. "What's wrong?" She cupped his face in her hands and pulled a hand away that had clear, warm fluid. Then it dawned. "We need a doctor!"

Yanking on gloves, she whipped off his bandages. Cerebral fluid trickled down from the incision. His eye fluttered shut and his body went lax. "Now! His pressure is dropping!"

Two doctors and a nurse ran in and reclined the bed flat, pushing her back.

She hovered in the corner, trying to look over their shoulders. Jason didn't open his eye as the nurse began pushing drugs. "He did this once before when his eye was removed and he had cerebral fluid leaking."

The doctors disengaged the locks on the bed wheels. "His brain is swelling and forcing out fluid. We're taking him to OR." And then they ran out of the room with him.

A nurse returned when she was in tears. "He'll be alright. They need to check what's going on. We have the best neurosurgeons in the country. Come wait in the waiting room. It's closer to the OR, and the doctor will be out in a bit to talk. Do you want me to get a chaplain or someone to sit with you?"

"Will someone give updates of how he's doing?" She sniffled.

"Yes, one of the nurses will come out in a few minutes and let you know what they need to do."

A few minutes later, the surgeon came out.

She shot to her feet. Surgeons never came out fast unless it was to deliver the worst news. Clutching her fists so her nails bit her palms was the only way to keep from fainting.

"Mrs. Port, he's alright."

Her knees buckled and she plopped into the chair.

He sat beside her. "It was the cranial catheter that had somehow tore and released cerebral fluid. He lost enough that I was concerned, so we injected his own blood into his spinal catheter so the pressure isn't too low. As you probably know from last time, this will help him." He smiled and patted her knee. "I was afraid I was going to have very bad news for you. All things considered, this is a very benign bump in the road. He may have a bit of a headache for a couple days. We'll monitor him closely to be sure it's not pain due to something else. He's awake already. He knows sign language?"

She nodded.

"He keeps signing something like this. I assume that's your name?"

"Yes."

"They'll bring him out in a moment to go back to his room. We're also going to swap out his cranial pressure monitor. It's supposed to send a signal of distress to the nurse's station for precisely this reason."

* * *

"Look at you, handsome man," she smiled a few days later. "Upright and mobile."

He gave her a look when the nurse brought in a walker.

"Here you go. You're still a bit dizzy, so policy is you have to use this." The older woman put it in front of him.

But he didn't stand up from his seat on the edge of the bed. He just gave the nurse a dry look.

"Come, honey, it's the only way they'll let you walk around, and you can't move to the rehab center until you're mobile. It's one step closer to coming home."

With a dark glare, he took the walker. But the stubborn man just set his fingers on it enough to appease the nurse without actually using it.

"I'm so sorry. You are right - we should let you fall and smash your head," the nurse said with a cocked eyebrow.

"Alright, everyone." She set a hand on Jason's back and matched her steps to Jason's slow ones that portrayed his unsteadiness. His feet didn't seem to drag in any manner, so that had to be a sign that his motor skills weren't affected.

After a lap around the unit, he sat in bed and poked at the plate of real food that the candystriper put in front of him.

"Jay, I don't want you to be offended, but do you have trouble forming words with your mouth? My concern is if you have adequate muscle movement to swallow without choking."

He kept his head down.

Gently tilting his head up, she searched his eye. Shame clouded his gaze. "Can you try to smile?"

One corner of his mouth quivered in an attempt but failed. When she helped him open his mouth, he couldn't stick out his tongue either.

"Do you have sensation? Does it feel like the muscles are locked at all?"

A slow shake of his head. And he pulled something out from under his hip. A tissue that he kept hidden. He wiped his mouth - and not the scarred side.

"Oh, honey, you need to tell me. A speech therapist never came in, right? Do you want the therapist you've used before? I can fly him out here, and we'll see what he says."

The next afternoon, she sat back as the therapist did an exam. Jason seemed more patient with him than any of the other medical staff.

"A stroke has been ruled out, correct?"

"Yes, they're certain it's TBI."

"We will try some exercises, but it's possible that there's still brain swelling that's causing this. That will have to resolve in it's own time. Swallow." The man set his hand on Jason's throat. "Good. At least that isn't obviously affected more than before. We'll start with simple jaw exercises to keep the muscles from atrophying. It's as simple as using a device that opens the jaw, if you can help him close it, Emma. If he'll let you. Otherwise, I think we just wait until he's released to rehab once all brain swelling is resolved. Who knows? He might improve on his own by then."

"Now, is there a way to get some soft foods into him yet, or is it too dangerous until he has more movement?"

The therapist got out a device from his bag. "You're familiar with this, Jason." He handed Jason one end of a cord that appeared to have a flat spoon-shaped end while he held the computer monitor end. "This measures tongue strength."

She leaned closer to the screen when Jason put the other end in his mouth.

"He has paralysis here and here because of the fire - that's normal for him. At the back of his tongue he has muscle strength, which we knew because he can swallow. See up here at the front of his tongue he has practically no pressure? That's paralysis. He also seemed to have lip paralysis. I'd say it was a stroke if the tests didn't indicate otherwise. Thank you." He took the end from Jason. "It's going to be a trial and error test, but I believe if soft foods that don't need chewing, such as mashed potatoes, are put at the back of his throat, he could swallow it. Should we give it a go?"

"Help ease his jaw open. There's not muscle lock, so there's no need to use a tongue depressor or anything at this time to open his mouth, just ease his chin down. His muscles are a little bit stiff, though. Now, Jason, you're in charge of putting the food back as far as you can without gagging yourself."

He did, but the poor thing began salivating like crazy having real food again. Not having control over his mouth, he needed more tissues than with just the burn scars. The poor thing grabbed a wad and then hesitated.

Tears welled when he held them out to her. Taking them, she gently wiped each side of his chin.

His lip quivered with humiliation as a tear ran down his cheek, but trust shimmered in his eye.

"I love you for your strength," she whispered and leaned her forehead against his.

* * *

On Valentine's Day, she walked into the rehab home in Denver with a dozen roses from the greenhouse. It was a much needed gift to cheer up his room.

To her surprise, he sat on the edge of a chair at the window, as if anxiously waiting for something. When her shoe clicked on the floor in his room, he looked over his shoulder. A grimace, that was the extent of his smiling capabilities, greeted her.

"Morning, handsome."

He stood, his balance still somewhat shaky at times yet from headaches, and held out a single rose.

"Ohhh," she cooed and hurried forward. "You remembered it's Valentine's Day. You didn't sneak out to get this, did you?"

His eye twinkled, but he shook his head.

"Good." Then she set his bouquet and vase on the small dresser. "I'm going to stick my rose in with yours until I go so it has water." Turning to him, she gave a big hug. "Were you able to sleep last night? I don't understand why they can't figure out why your nights and days are mixed up."

He nodded. _Four hours, so not bad_ , he signed.

"Should we get breakfast? I imagine you're hungry. I already ate, but I'm hungry enough to eat again - " When she took his hand and grabbed the cane that he needed to steady himself, she stopped at his resistance. But she didn't turn right away. It was hard being three weeks out after the injury and still no progress in speech. His mind seemed slightly slow with processing things yet, and he was often not too steady on his feet. Keeping busy prevented thoughts about it all.

His eye held hers, and he pulled her into his arms again. He traced her lips with the tip of his finger and then pointed to his lips, a question in his eye.

She looked away. "I do kiss you." Sometimes it was like he didn't understand that he had new limitations...almost like he'd lost some memory or maybe cognitive function. When he tapped his lips again, she shook her head. "I'm not going to kiss more than a peck on the lips because you cannot move your mouth much at all." Her eyes flicked up to his face to see if he understood.

 _I comprehend more than everyone gives me credit for. It's harder to think, but I still understand._ His signing was slower than it once had been.

"Then why are you pushing this?" Tears welled.

When she didn't move, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. _Because you used to kiss me all the time. You mourn, but I'm still right here. I know you cry, but you won't do it in front of me._

Laying her forehead against his chest, she let the tears fall. "No one knows exactly what's wrong or how much. Oftentimes you have a blank look, and I'm not sure if you can't understand or if you're just pulling away. It's so hard to see you trapped, and sometimes I don't know how much to push or not push."

 _Talk to me. You don't talk to me like this anymore. Sometimes I hear the words, but it takes a few moments for my brain to make sense of them. By then, everyone is on to the next topic. I know I'm slow, and it's humiliating. My thoughts occur at speeds like they used to, but processing speech or movement are slower. I'm trapped in here, and I need everyone to slow down._

She sniffled. "Why didn't you say that sooner?"

He gave a small shrug and held her tight. _I've been practicing something with the therapist for today. Don't get scared - it'll sound more like moaning than anything._

Leaning back in his arms, she looked up at him in confusion.

His cheeks stained pink with embarrassment. "Waaaa." His brow knit, and he took another breath to try. "Wuh uuuuu." The dear man looked so embarrassed. Then he dug out a handkerchief and had to wipe his mouth.

Her lip quivered. Having experience with Henrietta's speech made it easier to understand his. "I love you too," she whispered as the tears fell.

A grimace tugged at his lips, but his eye shined. He was smiling.

Love surged all of the sudden and poured out. Grabbing his face, she pressed her lips to his and used her thumb to help him open his mouth. His arms wrapped around, and he seemed content as long as she was content to let her tongue dance with his limp one.

A deep sigh of pleasure escaped him, and he tilted his head to try to kiss to the best of his abilities. His hands slipped up the back of her shirt, the sensation of his touch on bare skin felt like it was the first time.

"Whoa there, Dr. P.! You're on restricted activity, man."

She broke the kiss in embarrassment as his nurse came in. "Hi, Matt."

"Hey, Mrs. P. My man, I leave you alone for five minutes and you gettin' action! You gotta teach me that. Look at you - she got you havin' the best color I've seen in your face all week. Mrs. P., I gotta take you around to all the patient rooms!"

Jason gave him a stern look.

"I just joshin' ya, man. I won't let someone steal your woman. I came to tell ya that I pulled some strings and worked my awesome magic to get you some meat on the menu! Now, it ain't gonna sound appealing, but it'll get those muscles back in shape. We gotta blend it so you can swallow it, but it's meat, my man! You can have steak without the work of chewing it! That sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me. Anything where I can be a step lazier is good!" The young man grinned and clapped his hands together. "What do ya say to that, Dr. P.?"

The nurse spoke fast and full of energy, and Jason looked as if he concentrated hard to follow the conversation. After a few seconds, he looked a bit grossed out.

"Aw, come on!" The nurse slapped him on the shoulder. "It's meat!" His hands cupped the air with exuberance.

She laughed. "I take it you're a meat man."

"Yeah, Mrs. P.! All guys are! Aw, man, I thought you'd be all excited and jumping around! You gonna thank me later. It's better than this chic food of mashed potatoes and soup they've been givin' ya. Well, peace out, my man. I gotta go check on Will down the hall. You behave yourself with Mrs. P. She got that bun in the oven too, you know."

Jason cocked an eyebrow, as if saying, 'I know.'

Once Matt left, she turned to Jason with a smile. "You know, Dr. P., I think we should do some daily therapy sessions of our own."

His eye lit up.

* * *

"I can't believe it. What are you doing? For three weeks, none of my equipment or exercises did anything to improve your muscle tone, and now you have a little since I tested last week." The speech therapist took the device from Jason a few days later.

He exchanged a secret glance with her.

When the therapist looked at her, intense embarrassment swept up her face. "Um, we've sort of been doing exercises."

"What kind?"

Jason sat back with his grimace-smile, taking unfair advantage of not being able to speak and watching her squirm.

"Um, the makeout kind," she mumbled.

"Sorry?"

Oh goodness, better to just get it out there. She gave Jason a look. "Thank you for helping." The blasted man just seemed to enjoy the moment. Then she turned to the therapist. "I figured making out is a good way to give him incentive, and it can target several muscle groups. I can't tell any difference yet, but it seems to be working. We're at about three minutes twice a day before his muscles get sore."

The man laughed. "Well there's a therapy I've never tried with my patients. No offense, but I'm leaving your wife to that one."

Jason let out a laugh that ended in his throat and held up his hands to keep the therapist back.

"Well, we'll see how that goes. It could be pretty interesting if it works."

She held his arm as he used the cane on his other side to walk through the halls to the dining room for lunch. "I'm glad they let you walk without a nurse now."

He rolled his eye. Speaking a little slower seemed to help him keep up with conversation. The poor man earned many stares, but not as many as when he'd first arrived at the home. The mask and half of his head shaved with a long scalp scar on the opposite side were bound to draw attention. He glanced and caught her staring.

"You look good without hair. Not many men can carry it off, but you have the physique and square jaw that make it look manly rather than sickly." When he cocked an eyebrow, she smiled. "I'm serious."

He led the way to what had become his usual corner since arriving at the rehab home. Then he pulled out a chair for her.

She stilled, a sense of dread forming a ball in the pit of her stomach. "Jay, we have to go get our food." It was as if he didn't remember how things worked here.

He stepped forward and eased off her coat.

"Oh!" A flush burned hot. "I forgot I didn't take it off yet."

That blue eye twinkled. _It's your pregnancy brain not working, not mine._

"Oh, ha ha." She rolled her eyes and then took his arm after he draped her coat over the back of the chair. "I'm sorry, I just worry. I hate it that you can't be at home yet, and I'm not sleeping well without you."

 _I don't sleep much either without you. You can call..._ He stopped signing, as if realizing he couldn't speak to be on a phone. _You can text. Maybe once in awhile they'd let you sleep over._

He was supposed to be here for three more months at best, possibly until July when the baby was due. Being at home probably wasn't the best place for him with the stairs being he was so unsteady yet. And it was possible that the full extent of brain damage wasn't realized yet, so he needed expert medical care at a moment's notice. He wouldn't be able to come to any of the OB appointments, and the birth would probably be too hard on him to stay the whole time. It was like he was home without being home.

A finger hooked under her chin, and Jason turned her eyes to him. _Talk to me. You don't have to do everything on your own. I'm right here, but you act like I'm still gone._

"I - " A tiny kick. Her hand flew to her belly. Another tiny twinge against her palm. She grabbed his hand and pressed it under her sweater. "The baby kicked." Her eyes flew to him. He hadn't been around to feel the baby move yet. She waited, concentrating on any possible twinge. "There." She pressed her hand over his. "Did you feel it?"

His brow furrowed and he searched her eyes. Then the baby kicked again. The corner of his lip twitched. It pulled up into a grimace. And then it crept a tiny bit higher. It wasn't his usual smile, but it was a smile. Tears shimmered in his eyes.

A watery laugh slipped out, and she let go to cup his face. "You're smiling. Your lips moved." She raised into her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

* * *

"Do it for Emma," the therapist urged a few days later. "She'll be so proud of you. We'll see if there are certain sounds you can do. 'The dog can walk.'"

She moved to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. "I don't care how it sounds, honey. Just try."

He drew a deep breath. "Ha hah..." His 'can' escaped like a woosh of air. "Hauk." His 'k' was soft like he had to use the back of his throat. Lip movement was almost nonexistent. His cheeks burned pink, and he wouldn't look at anyone.

Tears stung and she kissed his cheek. "I missed your voice. Tell me that you love me." She leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes.

His arm wrapped around her. "Ah wuh uuu." He whispered the words in her ear. His humiliation seemed to flee, and he brushed a kiss over her lips.

A smile escaped when he turned to the therapist and said, "Maw."

She smiled. He wanted to practice more.

"Tell your wife that you aren't leaving here in July. Tell her how you're gonna surprise everyone. When are you going home? When are you going to show everyone that you're better?"

"Ahil."

"April? We're gonna have you walking and talking by April?" The therapist smiled, clearly impressed at Jason's determination.

Jason gave a firm nod and gave a gentle pat to her belly. He wanted to be home before the babe came.

"Alright, let's get to it!"

Hope took hold and wouldn't be shaken as she set her hand over his on the baby. If anyone knew how to overcome the impossible, it was Jason.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: The doctor's two-week surgery recovery timeline was waaay off! Then I got stuck on this chapter, but I finally figured out where it needs to go.**

* * *

Arriving at half past six o'clock days later, she entered his room at rehab.

The door sat cracked open, so she peeked in the bathroom. "Jay?"

He stood at the sink without the mask and with one side of his face lathered. A few days ago, he'd taken to wearing black pants and a white dress shirt, portraying his antsy-ness to be home again.

"Hi, love."

Instead of a half-smile that he was now capable of, his face flushed in embarrassment as he held a disposable razor to his cheek. He had a couple false starts to shaving.

Then it dawned that he still struggled with fine motor skills yet. "May I do it?" Pasting on a bright smile, she hopped on the counter to face him.

Without a word, he handed over the razor and looked anywhere but at her.

"Come here, my burly man." She smiled and tugged his arm to bring him to stand between her knees. "Should you forever need help, which you won't, I should most thoroughly enjoy shaving you in the mornings."

A quick glance seemed to serve as his gauge to check if she meant it.

"The baby has been kicking a lot today." Setting his hands on her belly to distract him, she then began shaving.

"Did you sleep?"

"As well as can be expected without you." Then she paused to peck a kiss on his scarred cheek.

He smiled and met her eyes finally. "Missed you."

"I missed you too." Biting her lip, she maneuvered the blade over his pronounced jawline.

The pad of his finger glided over her mouth as he tilted her chin up. That blue eye searched hers. Time stood still as her heart beat faster. His gaze held heat that pulled her into his soul. Beauty and calmness enveloped.

"Your face is full of shaving cream yet." But the words came out a bit too breathless. Those words, regrettably, broke the spell.

"Easily remedied." A mischievous look crossed his face, and he leaned closer.

"No! You can't get it all over me!" She giggled and squirmed to get away.

He chuckled and pressed his mouth to hers, smearing shaving cream on her cheek.

The giggles quickly turned to sighs as her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Alright, Trouble, now that you're properly shaved," she stroked his smooth cheek and capped the razor a few minutes later, "we'll practice." She lathered his face again, thoroughly enjoying the strong angle of his square jawline and lean muscle in his cheek. Such quiet strength and humility existed in him, drawing out the best in others. His beauty was something so precious, because he kept that vulnerable side hidden from everyone else.

Only when the corner of his lip twitched in a threatening smile did it dawn that she'd been staring. Wrapping her hand over his, she started the mock shave and helped streamline his jerky strokes. "Hush, Jay."

The man was chivalrous enough to not comment on her blush. However, the pads of his fingers glided down her throat in a seductive stroke. Butterflies made her heart skip a beat. Locking eyes with him, her lips parted as his finger caressed her mouth open and he leaned down in a most tender kiss. His silky tongue danced in a fire of desire and love, as if he hadn't tasted her in a hundred years.

She broke the kiss and swallowed down her thundering heart. "Jay, you haven't been cleared to do anything strenuous." It was hard to ignore his gentle touch as he brushed shaving cream from her cheek.

"Pleasuring you isn't." The words vibrated low and husky from deep in his throat. His blue eye remained hooded with passion.

Taking a step back from his reach, she drew a breath to strengthen her knees. "You know we won't stop."

He reached out and laced his fingers with hers. His gaze remained on her hand as his fingers softly massaged. "Don't want to," he purred.

Her mouth ran dry. "I don't either, but it's not safe yet." When he withdrew his hand without a word, she stepped closer. "I would, if it wasn't dangerous for you. None of this changes how I feel about you."

Meeting her eyes, he gave a single nod that acknowledged belief in her words but sadness all the same. She resumed helping him practice shaving in silence.

"Not getting better." He spoke quietly as he struggled to form full sentences yet. Despair filled his eye.

"Your speech is tremendously better only a month after a massive TBI, and you have more facial movement. A couple weeks ago you couldn't even speak. I should say that is a great deal of improvement."

"Can't go home...sooner."

"Patience, Jay." She stilled his hand with shaving and met his eye. So much loneliness glistened in his gaze. "I hate seeing you in here as much as you hate being here, but you _are_ getting better. Once your balance improves enough that it's safe to go home, you can finish recovering there with us." Then she rinsed his razor and put it away.

"Nurse said in blast." He led her out of the bathroom and sat on the bed.

She nodded. "On a mission with the President - "

"No." His eye squeezed shut and he set a hand to his head, as if trying to remember. "Hotel blast."

"No, you were serving as one of the guards for the President."

He gave an odd look. "No. In hotel directing...ops with team. Went in hall...to walk." He touched the side of his head where the surgery parted his hair yet. "Hotel shook. Blackness."

She whipped out her phone. The Internet said the hotel where the President had been staying that same day had been bombed moments after the President's car had been suicide bombed. "Honey, did you tell the doctors?" Easing onto the side of his bed, she took his hand. "You might not have the same type of head trauma they think. A blast versus a fall head injury might have different ramifications."

He shook his head. "Too stupid to...know what happened." Then he looked away in shame.

"Hey." Hooking a finger under his chin, she guided his gaze back. "You are not stupid. You had a serious brain injury and weren't fully aware of everything going on in the hospital. We know now and can tell them what happened."

His brow furrowed and gaze locked on her lips. When he turned away to offer his profile and set a hand to his forehead, it dawned that she hadn't slowed down speech enough for him to understand.

"I'm sorry." She set a hand on his arm and repeated it slower. But he wouldn't turn. "Jay?" Standing up to face him on the bed, something inside twisted hard at the sight of his eye red with unshed tears. "It's alright. Tell me what you're thinking." She stroked his cheek. But he was too stressed to get words out clearly, so she offered a pen and paper.

He tried to write, but his still child-like grip on a pen and struggle to force the letters to take shape seemed to agitate him. The more he became trapped in his body, the more flustered he grew.

Setting her hands over his, she met his eye. "Deep breath. I'm right here and won't leave until I understand what you need. Sign to me."

 _Not getting better. I remember what I was like before_. Suddenly, he stormed out.

The man needed space to lick his pride in peace and let the fire burn itself out, so she stayed on the bed and waited.

The residence alarm went off moments later that notified staff when patients left the grounds unattended.

"For crying out loud, do you have to break rules, Jason?" she muttered and hurried out. If he felt trapped enough that he had to get outside, having medical staff chase him down would only exacerbate his anxiety. Being a genius was one thing, but a genius trapped in a body that couldn't communicate and made everyone think he was stupid was a whole new level of stress that'd finally made him snap.

Nurses and staff ran toward the front door in a panic. Sure enough, Jason marched across the parking lot with a cane he'd stolen from somewhere. At least he had the sense to make sure he didn't lose his balance on pavement. "It's alright, I'll get him!" she called and charged ahead.

"He needs a walker." A nurse trailed behind with one, and a couple male aids came running to get him back inside.

"Jay!" She held her five-month pregnant belly and trotted after him. The man made fast progress for someone with balance issues. "Jay, stop. This is really uncomfortable when not used to running with a belly."

He slowed considerably but didn't look over his shoulder or wait.

She caught up and slipped her arm through his free one, as much to help him balance as to walk on his arm. "You know the alarm is going off, and they're going to come drag you back inside."

He gave a dirty look.

"I'm just saying that you need to at least appear to be cooperating with me. A nurse is trying to catch us to give you a walker."

He picked up pace.

"What, you're going to walk home? I don't think my back is going to last going up the mountain. I have the car, you know."

"Not going back."

"Fine, but you're making me nervous that even you think you need a cane on pavement. Either take the walker or sit."

His eye darted to her belly.

"I'm fine to walk, if you want, but use a walker if you insist on pavement." He moved to walk in the grass instead. "Wise ass," she muttered.

That won a little bit of a cocky smile.

A change of topic might help calm his nerves. "The ultrasound is scheduled for next week. The doctor said if you promise to behave and use a walker, you can come with."

He stopped and felt her belly.

Embarassment swept up for some reason. "It's just a routine ultrasound."

The nurse caught up and set the walker before him. "You have to go back."

Two male aids stopped on each side and took his arms.

That blue eye filled with panic. He was too caged within his own body to be able to handle being locked in rehab a moment longer. The hysteria in his eye portrayed that it was his breaking moment - that if he wasn't pulled back from the edge, he'd shut down from everything. And everyone. This was exactly the kind of situation the therapist said to never let him get in.

"Let go." She stepped closer and pushed their hands away when they started to argue. Jason started to jerk his arms free. "You're going to upset him more. Let go for one minute." But they wouldn't, so she cupped his face to hold his eye. "Jay, look at me. It's just you and me."

His heartbeat slammed against her finger that touched his neck, and his chest heaved as everything spun out of control. His fingers wrapped around her wrist in a hard grip. Instincts to fight them began to surface in his eye.

"Trust me. I know you want to run, but I need you to ignore those instincts. I need you to trust me." A glare at the aids and the words growled out. "Let him go. Now."

The moment he was released, he backed up several steps. The aids moved toward him, but she held them back. His breathing slowed from panicked heaves, and he paced in extreme agitation. At least he didn't run or shut down.

Each day in rehab, he aged with the strain of not being at home in familiar surroundings. Missing the OB appointment last week because the doctor hadn't released him for an outing had added to stress and actually regressed his speech progress since then. He wasn't thriving in this environment anymore and needed to get out. Only the doctor's insistence that he needed to be here had led to her insistence that he stay. And only her insistence kept him from checking himself out. "Jay? I think it's time to go home."

A wide blue eye flew to her like he didn't believe the words.

"Let's go home." She held out a hand. Tears welled at seeing the enormous relief on his face.

He stopped before her, and his look tore at her heart so hard that she pulled him down for a hug. The dear man buried his face against her neck. And burst into tears.

"I'm sorry." She sniffled and stroked his short hair that had started to grow back. "I thought the doctor was right that it'd be best for you to be here to recover. I just want you to be happy."

"Not...three months," he wept, holding fistfuls of the back of her shirt.

"You gave it a go of three weeks. No one will make you stay for the full three months. It's okay, sweetheart." Tears burned - he would've stayed if she'd said it's what she thought was best.

* * *

He walked into the library on his cane after therapy a week later, carrying a pen and paper. Being home seemed to make him try harder. He worked with the speech therapist longer each day, a physical therapist more often and now accepted an occupational therapist to regain fine motor skills in his hand for writing.

She looked up from where she read Henrietta a book on the sofa. "How did it go?"

He shrugged, sat down and draped his arm across the back of the sofa behind her like he waited for the story to continue.

Henrietta fussed to move into Jason's lap.

"Use your words, love. Do you want Daddy?"

"Uhhh!" She fussed and threw herself back at an awkward angle in a fit. "Uhhh! Uhhh!"

"What's Daddy doing?" she gasped in excitement to derail the meltdown and tried to upright Henrietta. "Jay, I'm gonna drop her."

A scream erupted from the little body in a tantrum.

Jason leaned forward and scooped the baby into his lap. Then he stood her on his thighs and gave a firm look. "No."

Henrietta jammed a fist in her mouth and hesitated. "Uhhh," she said without emotion, as if testing the rules.

He sat her in his lap to face the book, ignoring the test.

"You can talk to her, you know." She picked up the book again.

"Learn to talk stupid."

"You do not talk stupid." Opening the book, she said, "Your doctor called while you were in therapy this morning. Apparently, your physical activity restrictions from surgery are lifted. Maybe we should make you speak to get what you want too. I think we should do your lessons in the bedroom, Dr. Port."

The man almost grinned for the first time since the accident.

* * *

"Breathe. Breathe." He pressed a kiss against her neck as the after effects of lovemaking left her trembling.

She clung to have something steady to hold onto, but he seemed more preoccupied with feeling the baby to make sure the soft contractions didn't turn into labor.

"Oh my, Jay. Again." She tugged at him to come back when he slid down to kiss her belly.

"Again?" He chuckled and let her push him onto his back. "First week...home."

"I'm pregnant and hormonal and have been without you for three months. I've had to watch you shower and dress all week and haven't touched you." Straddling his hips, she pinned down his hands on each side of his head. "Don't distract me this time."

He smiled.

She stilled. "I can't continue if you don't use a sentence."

"Like this game. Let's play it...every night." Then he broke his wrists free and pulled her down for a most satisfying kiss.

* * *

She stuck her head in his study a couple days later. The man sat at his desk, wearing the ski mask, and concentrated on the laptop screen. "Honey, the baby is down for a nap." When he didn't appear to hear, she walked over and sat on the edge of his desk and tossed her hair. This somehow didn't seem so sexy with a belly in the way.

He turned the laptop toward her, stress crinkling the corner of his eye.

Sitting upright, she read Ms. Williamson's email. "Someone wants to donate funds to the foundation, but he wants to know what the financial status is and your plans for the future of the foundation first. That seems reasonable. Why are you distressed?"

"He wants to meet." He swept a hand over himself and gave a dark look.

"You can have someone else do it, or put it off for a few weeks. Your speech is coming, and your balance will likely be much better by then, so no one will know about the TBI."

He sighed and held her gaze for so long and intensely that butterflies started in her belly. When he leaned his elbow on the armrest and propped his chin on those long fingers, that aire of a mysterious man that had been gone for so long - one of confidence and control of any situation - returned.

"What?" She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear in self-consciousness - the delicious kind that knew he would devour in the end.

"Or you come."

"Me?" She blinked. "Why on earth should I come?"

"As board member." He raised an eyebrow, speaking somewhat slow to control his speech. "You know finances. You lead meeting."

"You can't suddenly instate me and then expect me to catch a big patron." He looked completely serious. She walked around the desk and dropped into the chair.

"Don't jostle bairn." Then he met her eyes. "Why?" The man sounded bored.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Why? Because I'll look like a whale in the next few weeks. Because your executive staff won't take kindly to a newbie walking in there to take over. Because I've never done it before."

"You're beautiful. Staff will do what I say."

"Oh ho, alright, Mr. Arrogant." She rolled her eyes and stood.

"Sit." Something in his tone shifted to deeper and firm.

Straightening, she held his gaze in defiance.

The man pushed himself to his feet and held the edge of the desk for balance as he walked around. Then he stood close and started to lean down so there was no option but to sit. His hands wrapped around the armrests and those lips pressed to hers. When he pulled back enough to meet her eyes, flames burned beneath the surface. "Lock the door," he purred in a low baritone.

"Why?" She threw his question back at him, but wasn't able to look away as her heart pounded fast with desire.

Without missing another beat, he tossed aside his mask and his mouth crushed down with insatiable need. His knee leaned on the cushion between her legs for balance as he cupped her face in his hands. "Kiss me," he panted.

Pulling off the lip bandage, her hands then freed his shirttails. A sigh escaped in her throat as he pressed her back in the chair and gave her swollen breasts a soft squeeze.

"Missed you," he breathed. It all shifted in the next moment. The frenzy vanished and he wrapped his arms around to hold tight as he pressed his lips against her neck. "So much." Peaceful calmness and silence followed, simply basking in the moment of being together. "Come to gardens."

Taking his hand, she stood and walked on his arm as he used the cane. The stairs still took longer than they once had, but he didn't seem to struggle to balance on them anymore. "Do you use the cane now just in case?"

"Stevens, Ms. Van Hoodie, took...bairn outside. If...go into labor, don't...need me scrambling...reach help."

"Are you a hovering husband, Dr. Port?"

He gave a suave, dark look that caused delicious goose bumps. Then he led the way to the arboretum.

Inside, he locked the doors and then escorted to the back of the rose gardens.

Red rose petals trailed the stone path to a downy-soft bed of white blankets. Candle lanterns cast a romantic glow in the afternoon sunset.

"Oh, Jay," she breathed.

"Missed anniversary...Valentine's and your birthday."

A bottle of apple juice sat in a champagne bucket of ice, triggering a hearty laugh over his sweetness. "Are you trying to keep up the romance during pregnancy?" When she turned to him, the words died on her lips.

He held open a red velvet necklace box. Inside laid a gold rose in three-dimension that resembled her engagement ring. Instead of a diamond in the center, a red ruby nested in the shape of a small heart.

* * *

Her stomach churned again in the waiting room as she clutched Jason's hand.

"It's alright."

"What if there's something wrong with the baby? What if I'm too old and there's some kind of defect - "

"Shhh." He pulled her closer to rest her head on his shoulder and rubbed her five-month pregnant belly. _We'll find the best doctors to fix him if anything's wrong. But it'll be alright_ , he signed.

"Emma," the nurse called.

Jason stood and offered his hand. The dear man had worked so hard the past month to get steady on his feet for when the baby came.

In the ultrasound room, she clutched his hand as the technologist started.

"Here's the head. You can see the nose here and eyes." The woman pointed at the screen.

She smiled at Jason, whose grimace turned more and more into a smile each week. He brushed at his eye and kissed her hand.

"That looks good. Here's the heartbeat." The woman turned on the sound. A rapid pulsing filled the room. "That's normal too." Then she turned off the audio. "Here are the arms and legs. Do you want to know the sex?"

She looked at Jason. Goodness, this conversation hadn't come up with all the chaos of his brain injury.

"Do you?" He looked at her.

"I don't think so. You?"

A smile tried to break through. "Keep surprise."

"Alright," the woman smiled and continued. "Here's the back..." Her words faded and she clicked a few buttons.

Her eyes flew to Jason. His eye narrowed on the screen as he tried to lean closer to see. "What's wrong?" She looked at the woman.

"Let me just get the doctor to check something. Sometimes ultrasounds can look like something when it's nothing." But the woman set the wand on the machine and hurried out.

Tears fell and panic surfaced. "What did she see?"

He stepped around the table and set the wand on her belly. Then he hit some buttons and got an image to appear on the screen. His eyebrow furrowed as he stared at the screen and clicked buttons, taking measurements of the heart.

"Is something wrong without her heart?"

With a shake of his head, he moved the wand and looked at the spine. His expression paled.

The doctor came in with a smile. "Let's take a look. Sometimes things that look like something are nothing." She eased the wand from Jason, and he moved aside to hold her hand but be near the screen. "Emma, roll onto your side and get the baby to shift." The doctor palpated, and the baby kicked and moved in protest. Tension eased from the doctor's face and Jason's grip eased at the same moment. "There we go. It looked like spina bifida for a moment, but there's a clear view now." The doctor pointed to the screen.

"Are you sure?" She looked to Jason.

The doctor confirmed, but the panic didn't subside until Jason nodded to. He brought her hand to his lips and came around to stand closer as the doctor finished, pointing out ten little toes along the way and the baby sucking his thumb.

Alone at the end of the appointment, she sat on the edge of the table and Jason helped wipe the gel off her belly. Her hands still trembled. Catching his hand when he moved to pull down her shirt, she swallowed hard and met his eye. "I'm glad you were here." Her voice broke, and tears fell.

"Shhh." He stepped between her legs and offered a fierce hug. "She's alright."

"I know it's not fair to ask, but I need you to stay during delivery in case something goes wrong." She clutched handfuls of his shirt at his back.

"Of course stay." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Baby is fine...You're fine."

In the shower that evening as she got her hair wet, Jason's voice interrupted. "Em?"

"No, but we won't tell her," she teased from behind the curtain.

A snort and the light turned off, replaced with the soft glow of a candle that faded the world into shades of gray. He slipped in, that blue eye dilated with desire as he pressed her against the wall and pinned her hands overhead in one hand. And then he stilled, as if he could sense the butterflies fluttering in her belly and heart pounding with anticipation...as if he relished watching her squirm in restlessness knowing she was going to be devoured.

"Jay," she begged.

His other hand trailed over her breasts, eliciting soft gasps, and over her belly to cup against need throbbed without really touching.

A whimper of desire, and her body bucked out of instinct.

"Shhh," he whispered and leaned down to nibble her neck as his fingers laced with hers.

Oh god, his brooding silences and moments of intense passion since coming home were somehow erotic. Even though he spoke very little, he communicated better than he ever had, with a brush of the hand or glance across the table. He'd figured out how to have entire conversations with very few words. In moments like now, she melted in his hands.

Her heart pounded faster until it was impossible to breathe fast enough, even though his hand didn't move. His mouth crushed down, demanding yet gentle, and he pressed his body against hers, as if laying claim.

Breaking her hands free, she cupped his face, burying her fingers in his short hair. The shower rained down, giving him freedom from any bandages or tisssues, and he took full advantage of nipping and tasting her mouth. "Take me."

The plea was answered with a deep growl of denial in his chest.

It only stoked the fire to see his confidence growing to not hesitate making his own demands.

His fingers teased. It was impossible to stand his wonderful teasing a moment longer, but he finally laid claim.

Her legs trembled and belly had soft contractions, completely exhausted from his lovemaking.

He dried her off and wrapped his robe around her before tying a towel around his own waist as her eyes drifted shut.

Gently being lifted into strong arms, she rested her cheek against his warm chest. The steady sway of his steps lulled slumberland closer. Distantly aware, she sighed in contentment as cool sheets touched her bare skin. Every muscle relaxed into sleep as a butterfly soft kiss touched her brow.

"I love you," his deep voice whispered.

A moment later, the bed shifted and a strong arm wrapped around from behind before sleep arrived.


	28. Chapter 28

Sitting in the window seat in the bedroom, she set down the book and rubbed her belly. The baby had grown large enough to make bending over difficult but not yet impossible. She looked down at the swell that was a bit bigger than both hands. "You need to kick more - Papa won't speak much unless you kick."

The bedroom door burst open and Henrietta came bouncing in on her little legs swinging as fast as possible in a run. Trudy trailed close behind. "I'm sorry. She's a spitfire tonight, don'tcha know. I couldn't catch her."

She frowned and helped Henrietta climb up. "Don't apologize for my daughter wanting to see me. I thought Jason was going to read her a bedtime story."

Henrietta climbed in her lap and bent in half to kiss the baby.

"He tucked her in and flipped book pages like a fish before turning on the nightlight. When he disappeared, she started fussin' for a story to be read. As happy as a hawk in a burned field, she was."

"He wouldn't read to her? For crying out loud, he's taking this speech issue too far." Getting up and settling Henrietta on her hip, she headed for the door. And caught a woodsy scent. "Thank you, Trudy. I'll tuck her in and read a bedtime story."

"I can read to her - "

"No, I'm not going to be one of those rich mothers who pawns all mother duties off on the help."

Trudy's eyes widened and then grew sad.

"I didn't mean that you're only the help, Trudy." She set a hand on the woman's arm. "I'm just stressed about Jason. Would you get her in bed? I'll be right there."

Trudy's eyes lit up as she took Henrietta. "We'll get snug as a bug in a rug for Mama to come," she cooed and planted a big kiss on the girl's face.

The little princess grinned and threw her chubby little arms around Trudy's neck. "Oody, iss!"

"You want another kiss?" Trudy happily complied.

"Ah-ah, iss! Iss!"

Taking her from Trudy and lifting Henrietta high in the air, she blew a kiss on the little belly.

A shriek of laughter. "Ah-dee! Iss? Ah-deeeee!" She looked around for Jason, her face falling.

Setting Henrietta down, she knelt and pointed to Jason's room. "Daddy's hiding."

Brave Henrietta waddled toward the darkness and hesitated in the doorway. Then a low baritone murmured and Henrietta charged inside. Peels of joyous, child laughter rang from the darkness, and Henrietta emerged alone with a grin.

Once they left the room, she turned to the shadows of his connecting room. "Why are you spying again?"

"It isn't spying," replied the low, rich baritone.

"Observing someone furtively is the definition of spying." She crossed her arms over her chest.

He stepped into the firelight wearing the plastic mask. "Observing someone with pleasure," he corrected.

"I'm not interested in the definition of 'admire.' You're avoiding contact as much as possible to avoid speaking." Flinging out a hand, she frowned in irritation. "I only see you at night, just like when we met. Only then, you'd at least speak to me. Now, you just come to seduce and leave me too tired to talk. Then you're gone again by morning. You aren't some phantom of the night, Jason."

His expression remained stoic, silent.

"You promised when we wed that you wouldn't only come at night, and I know it's not for the same reasons. I don't care if we have to speak slower for you to follow, or if you only say a few words an hour." She set a hand on his chest and brought his to rest on the baby. "You're missing being a father, and we're missing out on us."

Silence. The silence hurt.

Dropping her hands, she turned to leave.

Strong fingers captured her wrist and turned her around. "It's humiliating," he whispered. Then that blue eye rose and locked with hers. "You wed this," he gestured to his face," and...now I can't understand." He cut off his words as it grew more difficult to finish the long sentence.

Her heart twisted. Cupping his cheek to search his gaze, she shook her head. "Jay, you are still you. You're still intelligent, gentle and caring. So it takes a moment longer to process things, and you may have to speak a little slower. It means I have your undivided attention. What wife doesn't want that?"

The corner of his mouth twitched as a smile threatened.

"Henrietta needs you to speak - she is speaking less seeing you making do without."

His brow furrowed in concern, as if he hadn't realized how it affected Henrietta.

"Don't teach her that because she can't speak well means she shouldn't talk." Guiding his arm around her waist, she stepped closer and gazed at his mouth. "Talk to me. You've been home for three weeks and don't talk to me anymore."

He caught her hand when she stroked his lips. Instead, his fingers laced with hers. Then his cheek pressed to her temple and he started a soft sway of a dance. Quiet sadness emanated from him.

Wrapping her arm around his shoulder to hold him close, she rested her head on his chest. Closing her eyes against the disappointment that he wasn't going to let her in, a soft sigh escaped.

"Ah-ah!" Henrietta's little frustrated yell cut into the silence.

Reluctantly stepping back, she searched his dull blue eye. "I have to go read her a story. Come?" She held out a hand.

But he raised her hand to his lips and took a step back toward the shadows of his room.

"Jason," she pleaded, her heart breaking.

He stilled, as if debating, but ultimately melted back into the shadows.

With a heavy heart, she went to tuck in Henrietta.

* * *

The little dear wanted to cuddle to fall asleep, so it was an hour later when she returned to her own bedroom. Trudy had banked the fire and instead lit some candles on the mantle. A vase overflowing with freshly cut roses sat in the center. A new, beautiful silk nightgown - as red as the roses on the fireplace - laid on the bed. All the current nightgowns were becoming too tight in the belly, but this one looked wide enough to accommodate a growing baby.

Jason's room still remained dark.

"Thank you, Trudy, but I think I'm going to bed." Another night of going to bed alone, only to be woken by Jason at midnight to make love...too sleepy for talking and too tired afterwards to stop him from escaping before the morning light.

"He said I was to light candles." Ever the professional, Trudy didn't blink an eye at the romantic scene she'd been asked to create.

"Trudy." Her voice left no room for contradiction. "He can get the nerve to face his own wife himself if he expects my attention tonight."

The woman shook out the match, her brow wrinkled in worry. "The hormonies can make a short temper. Sometimes he's as stubborn as they come, but tonight he's just trying to find courage." Trudy stepped forward and gave a soft pat to the baby. "Within two years, he's suffered further disfigurement on two occasions, gained a family that he never thought he'd have and is now trying to adjust to a brain injury." She dabbed at her own eyes. "Breaks my heart to see you two like a sheep and dog, not that you don't have as much right to frustration as a cat to a mouse, but not tonight. Give him patience tonight." Then she slipped out.

Staring after Trudy in confusion, her eyes flew to movement in the shadows when Jason emerged from his room. "You have Trudy do your pleas for forgiveness now too?" The words had no bite, keeping in mind Trudy's odd request for patience tonight.

He hesitated a moment. "She spoke of her...own accord." His speech only hiccuped for a moment. Then he held out a piece of paper that carried his almost-back-to-normal elegant scrawl.

Taking the paper in confusion, she glanced at him and then took the paper closer to the candlelight.

 _My dearest Emma,_

 _It pains me to admit my speech is more hindered than you realize. After more than a sentence or two, I struggle to form coherent words._ _I can't speak enough to get this all out, so I thought it best to write it all so at least you understand._

Her eyes flew to him in surprise, but his gaze dropped to the floor.

 _I hoped it was temporary and asked the speech therapist to not mention it yet. The neurologist doesn't know why, aside from perhaps there's permanent nerve damage that results in interrupted signals to muscles for forming words. I didn't want you to know because you're dealing with so much when pregnancy is supposed to be a joyous time. You seemed so hurt tonight, and I don't want you to continue to wonder if days apart are what marriage to me will be. The more time that passes, the less chance of improvement in speech._

 _Henrietta hasn't made much progress in her speech therapy since I've come home, so I believed it best for her to not hear my broken speech. I regret not being there in the day to realize my lack of speech is becoming her solution too._

 _Coming to you at night isn't meant to just be physical pleasure. When you're warm and sleepy, too tired in my arms to talk, it's moments when I don't remember all that I can't do. In moments of passion in the middle of the night, you make me feel like a whole man who is able to be your everything. I'm not burned or in fragile health or unable to speak - I'm simply a man._

 _This is what's left for you to have and to hold. I don't worry that you'll leave, but I worry if you'll be happy with what you have to burden because it's more than expected when we wed._

 _I asked Trudy to bring roses to your room and light candles, not to try to seduce you after this, but because I wish for you to be surrounded in beauty like you surround me in. Your eyes daily see the beast, but I wish for you to have beauty in your life. It pleasures me to see you surrounded in roses that you love and bathed in candlelight that you've mentioned is so soothing. Silk will be gentle on your skin as the bairn grows your belly. I wish to give you happiness in ways that I'm able._

 _You're more than I ever dreamed to have. This life with you is more than I'd ever thought possible. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed and am so sure it's all a dream, that I'll wake up in the burn unit alone again. Sometimes I need to retreat into the shadows for a few hours and simply admire my wife and children - reassure myself that you're all as happy when I'm around as when I'm not._

 _I love you more than I'll ever be able to express. I miss our heart-to-heart conversations, and through letters may be the only way we'll ever get those back._

 _This isn't what our marriage will be like forever. It's just very hard to adjust to everything yet._

 _Your devoted husband_

With a sniffle, she set the letter on the mantle and crossed the distance to him. He appeared the debonair, handsome businessman who was capable of anything, aside from the fist clenched at his side and glint of nervousness in his eye.

"You're more than I wished for." The words whispered through the golden glow in the room as her hand gently uncurled his fingers to press a kiss to his palm. "I don't care if you can say a thousand words a minute or ten all night. We don't have to lose our talks." Then she pressed her lips to his, gently peeling off the mask.

But he turned his head away to shield the scars.

"There is no beast here, only beauty. Bare to me what you won't let the world see. Give me your heart, and I'll be happy," she breathed and pulled off her own nightgown. When she pulled off his white dress shirt, he moved to extinguish the candles. "No." She caught his arm. "I'm brave enough to let you see me all big and swollen, so you can be brave enough to not wear the shadows."

 _"_ You're beautiful. I'm - "

"Handsome and strong and powerful. We moved past this before Henrietta came. Don't take us back, Jay." Gliding her hands up his arms, she searched his eyes.

He looked away.

"Pick me up before I'm too big anymore."

That won a hint of a smile, and he lifted her onto his hips on the way to bed. His arm supported her back as he slowly leaned down to set her against the pillows without breaking the kiss.

"I'm glad you wrote the letter so I understand," she breathed as he sprinkled kisses on her neck and tugged pillows behind her back, just like every time.

"You aren't going to ask...if I can think fine...still?" His lips captured hers as his hands cupped her bottom to slide her up on the pillows a bit more.

"You already told me in rehab that cognition is fine, you just process words a bit slower." A giggle escaped as he tugged her hips to reposition her body. "Why do you always put me on pillows?"

"Bairn's too heavy to be on...your back anymore. Uterine artery...would compress." Then he discarded his pants and crawled on top, gently joining.

With a soft sigh of contentment, she cupped his face in her hands as his eye rolled back in pleasure.

His muscles hardened in desire, but his eye opened and held her gaze in the candlelight.

"This is the beauty that makes me happy every day," she whispered and stroked his poor warped cheek. "Just be there for us, and don't hide from me at night. We'll figure the rest out."

His mouth crushed down on hers. "I love you." Then he painted such beauty in the night.

* * *

The next morning, she smiled to see him still asleep in bed without a mask either. Slipping out of his arms, she held her belly and tiptoed to the washroom.

He seemed so peaceful and tired, so she slipped on a spaghetti-strap summer dress and crept to the door to get Henrietta before the little love woke the whole house for the day.

Reaching for the doorknob, a squeak of surprise escaped as a corded arm wrapped over her belly. Heat from a sleepy body pressed to her back. Warm lips pressed to her bare shoulder. "You haven't been released from...the beast's chambers." That baritone rolled deep and slow with sleepiness and desire.

A frown formed at the name for himself. "There is no beast." Shivers of delight skittered as teeth gently nipped her earlobe.

His hips pressed against her bottom, revealing just how awake he was. "You're mistaken." The gentle brush of fingers slid a strap off her shoulder. "He's quite hungry," he purred.

Her lips parted in a soft gasp as his other hand trailed up her bare thigh, lifting the skirt with it. Leaning her hands against the door before her knees buckled, she gulped in shallow breaths under his spell. "The baby is going to wake up."

"I'll rock him back to sleep." His breath stirred strands of hair near her ear, and a hand stroked over her belly.

"Not him. Henrietta," she breathed as her head lolled back to rest on his shoulder.

"She's not awake yet." His fingers cupped her jaw and turned her head toward him. His hot tongue flicked over the corner of her mouth.

Every muscle quivered with need. It was the most he'd spoken at once in so long, and this sudden confidence of a bold seduction in daylight was too much to survive any longer. "Oh god, Jason, take me."

But he didn't follow through with a kiss. Instead, he gently moved her hands to brace against the door, taking far too long to let his hands linger and mouth nip at her neck or shoulders.

"Jason, this is cruel. I'm pregnant," she panted, so impossibly restless.

"Is the bairn sound...from last night?" His tongue flicked over her ear.

A whimper of desire, and she nodded.

His hand cradled tbe underside of her belly for support. "Say you want me." A flutter of a kiss brushed her bare shoulder blade.

"I want you, Jay." She bit her lip, about ready to burst. "Please, I'll do anything."

"You must promise your heart..."

A smile tugged at her lips.

"...is my prisoner forever," he finished.

Her eyes opened to stare at the door in shock at how those romantic words had suddenly twisted to such self-hatred. He took over her body before there was a chance to respond to his words.

xxxxxx

"Jason," she panted under the sheets when he slid out of bed.

"No," he ordered, as if knowing where she'd take the conversation. He didn't even turn but headed straight for his chambers without any clothing. The connecting door closed and the locks clicked.

That was the last straw. Shooting out of bed in a hot temper, she snatched the sheets to keep around herself and marched to the door. A hard rap. "Don't lock me out!"

"Or I come back to...leave you too tired to get...out of bed!" Irritation sharpened his tone.

Her jaw dropped. "You can't stay away forever!" Henrietta started yelling for someone to get her up.

* * *

When Henrietta was down for a nap that afternoon, that woodsy scent filled the library air. "Jason?" Turning, her eyes scanned the sunlight-filled room. Nothing.

Browsing the shelves for a second time with restless energy, she stopped at the front corner. It almost felt like a cool draft coming from the books. She held out a hand. There. It was stronger between two bookcases...where there was a crack no larger than a finger width. Sticking a hand in, she startled when the bookcase glided to the side in complete silence and as easily as cutting melted butter. A tunnel. Faint light glowed inside around a corner. A secret passage? Was this how Jason moved about undetected? Why hadn't he ever said anything about it?

Stepping inside, her eyebrows rose in surprise. They weren't wide tunnels, but big enough for two people to walk closely side by side. The stone floor wasn't filthy with dust, and cobwebs didn't cover the ceiling in excess. Someone maintained these tunnels - meticulously. Curiosity gave way to courage. Wandering inside, she turned the corner to the right toward the light. Single light bulbs hung overhead every hundred feet or so. Jason must currently be in here to have the lights on still.

The tunnels twisted and turned, leading to only certain rooms on the first floor. A staircase led to more tunnels. On the rock wall, old wood putty crumbled at eye level. A heavy metal lock kept this secret door from opening. Whatever was on the other side must be very valuable. Brushing at the putty, she leaned down to look at the stream of light. Her bed. A sickening chill ran through. Oh god, someone had drilled a hole through the wood wall on purpose. And it wouldn't have been Jason.

The lights turned off. Pitch blackness engulfed. Every sense heightened - only to be deadened by the silent blackness. Her heart pounded. So many twists made it impossible to retrace steps.

A tiny scratching sound. A rat? A pebble? It was impossible to tell with the distortion the tunnel gave. A footstep. That was definitely a footstep. Panic slammed. Gaston. Maybe Gaston had escaped again and was using these tunnels, biding his time. Touching the wall, she crept along in silence.

Every muscle trembled, petrified. The imagination went wild with all the tortures he had planned.

"Fucking touch my family - " a vicious voice snarled and a hand wrapped around her neck, shoving her back against the wall.

If fear didn't paralyze all words, his tight grip cutting off air did.

Just as fast, he let go and touched her jawline as his other hand touched her belly. "Emma?" His voice softened. Jason.

She coughed and gasped, doubling over and fighting for air like still being squeezed.

"Tilt your head back to...straighten your trachea." One hand cupped the back of her head while the other gently tilted her chin up.

Air came more easily.

"I'm sorry. I heard someone near the...bedchambers and feared they were after Henrietta." He stroked her throat. "Can you breathe?"

She nodded and gulped air as her thundering heartbeat slowed.

"You'll need ice." He took her hand and led the way through the darkness with no more slowness than if the lights were on.

A soft click and he opened a door to the hall next to his bedchamber. Closing the door, he turned and bent to study her neck. So much remorse filled his eye. "I'll fetch ice." He wrapped his other arm around her back and guided her to sit on his bed. Then he hurried out.

She slipped into his bathroom to see why he appeared so upset. A perfectly red bruise of his handprint wrapped around her neck. It was quite impressive.

"Here, sweetheart. Van Hoodie is making...a poultice too." He set an ice pack to her throat.

"Thank you." It came out as a scratchy wheeze.

His eye widened. "Can you breathe?"

She nodded.

He didn't even wait for the answer before he scooped her up and hurried to the lab. He set her on the exam table. "Any uterine contractions?" He washed and gloved at lightening speed. "We need to scope to make sure I didn't partially crush your trachea."

She frowned at all the unnecessary panic. The baby seemed perfectly fine.

"Stevens!"

Pete ran in with wide eyes. "Is the baby coming?"

"No, I hurt her trachea. Hold her hands." Jason pulled out a long black tube from a cart that had a TV attached.

Pete blinked but helped her lie down and then gripped her hands tight at her sides.

"It's safer for the bairn...without sedation. You'll gag a moment." He lifted the long black scope. "Relax. It might feel like choking...for a second."

Easy for him to say. It felt strange, and he went fast enough that the gag stopped before it even really started.

"Good, Em." He looked to the left at the screen. "Stay still." Then he gave soft palpations on the throat. "Blink twice if it hurts." That blue eye zeroed in.

Nothing except the odd sensation of something stuck in the throat.

"It looks like just swelling." He started to pull the camera out, but he stopped and studied the screen. "Stevens? Need two eyes. Does that...look like a bulge?"

Pete moved out of view. "It does. Cracked trachea?"

"That's what worries me." He heaved a sigh and turned to her. "We need a gastroent,terologist to check." Then he eased out the camera and helped her sit up.

"It's just sore." The words came out raspy.

"Don't talk, and keep your neck straight. If...it's broken, it could collapse." He got out a neck brace from the cupboard.

She held up a hand and gave him a look when he moved to strap it on her.

"I'd rather have you angry for...overkill than dead." He strapped it on and scooped her up.

The poor man paced a hole in the floor in the emergency room during the five minutes of being checked in. Then he hovered and paced some more in the maternity ward while she was hooked up to a fetal monitor as a precaution.

A policeman entered. "Dr. Port, would you step out here for a moment?"

Then a woman entered. "Hi, Emma. I'm the social worker. While we wait for the doctor to come, I have some questions about how you got that handprint on your neck."

Oh god, they thought Jason was abusive. Explaining the story didn't seem to convince the woman either, as she kept asking the same questions in different ways.

"It was an accident. I know how it looks." Jason's voice came from the hall. "Let me just peek to...make sure she's doing alright."

"We can't let you go back in there yet, sir," the policeman's voice cut in.

Two doctors entered with a nurse and a lot of commotion about 'surgery' and 'baby's heart rate low' filtered through the mounting stress.

When the nurse injected something into the I.V. line, she tried to pull her arm away.

"It's just a sedative," the doctor said. "I know you've been through a lot and are scared - "

"Jason!" It came out as a raspy whisper.

"Doctor, her blood pressure is getting high," the nurse said.

"Just let me in there...until they're done. She's frightened," Jason begged.

"It's a mild sedative to help you relax for the procedure." The doctor frowned and set a hand over hers. "It's alright."

Every muscle grew heavy, and tears leaked out.

"Do you want your husband?" The older doctor leaned down to make eye contact.

When she gave a weak nod, he looked at the nurse and then nodded.

The cop brought Jason in. "One wrong move, and you get arrested."

He leaned over the bed with tears in his eye and stroked her hair. "It's alright."

"Baby?" This drug made it so hard to think.

Jason glanced at the monitor. "She's doing better. Relax so the baby...stays stable."

* * *

Bright lights overhead. She blinked.

Jason came into view with a forced smile. "Sweetheart, everything's fine. The bairn's alright." His fingers stroked her hair and then took her hand. His eye was red like he'd been weeping. "I'm so sorry."

The doctor listened to her chest with a stethoscope. "We'll keep you for twenty-four hours to make sure everything goes well. Your throat will be sore for a few weeks, but you should make a full recovery before the birth."

Sleep must've come because the surgeon was gone and Jason paced the room when she opened her eyes. Nana sat in the chair beside the bed.

"Don't look surprised, Emmie. JJ called in a panic when they took you into surgery, unsure if your trachea had collapsed." That old, gnarled hand squeezed hers tight. "They wanted to arrest JJ, as if he wasn't crying enough, terrified you weren't going to pull through."

"Nana," he snapped, and then turned his head away like that'd prevent seeing more tears.

"It's good for a woman to know her man worries." Then Nana set a hand on the baby. "It wasn't your fault, JJ. They're going to be alright."

"Look at what I did to her! She almost needed major surgery!" He flung out a hand, with fresh tears streaming down his face. "I could've killed her!"

"JJ?" Nana's warbly voice took a hard edge. "What's done is done. If you're intent on blaming yourself, you come wait on her hand and foot." Nana worked up her old bones to stand. "My great-grandbaby should be here soon with Trudy." She kissed her hand and leaned over the railing to set it to her cheek. "You get better, Emmie. I'm going to make Stevens take me to get you some pretty flowers in here." Then she set both hands on the bed and leaned over to kiss her belly. "You help Mama get better."

Jason sat on the edge of the bed. "You have every right to kick me out."

 _You thought you were protecting us._ It hurt too much to speak.

"Stop." He shook his head in disgust and looked down at his hands. "Stop making excuses. I could've killed you."

 _You didn't know it was me. I feel miserable and want my husband, not a guilty conscience pacing._

The guilt of making things even worse seemed to snap him out of it. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Tell me what you need, love."

* * *

He held her hand and kept his other around her back.

"Jay, I can walk." The words still had some lingering raspiness.

"He said falling could be fatal. We can go for a walk in a few weeks." His hand almost held too tight.

She gave a look. "I'm going to trip on grass and land on my throat?"

"Just humor me. You're only home today from the hospital. This is...far enough. Let's go back to the house and watch a movie."

Carefully turning her neck a bit, she glanced back. "We're barely a hundred feet from the door."

"Don't turn your head!"

Pulling her hand free, she planted her feet. "Get Nana."

"Nana can't catch you if you trip."

Biting her tongue, she began to kneel in the grass to watch Henrietta play.

"Em - " He shot down to help sit.

"Jason!" It came out a bit sharp. Taking a deep, calming breath, she met his guilty expression. "It wasn't your fault. I can't take this guilty hovering."

With a solemn nod, he got up and traded places with Nana, who played in the new sandbox with Trudy and Henrietta.

Nana came over and sat in a chair that Pete brought over. "He'd fall apart if anything happened to you."

She looked over at him dig in the sand with Henrietta. "He feels guilty."

"No, he had a reality check of seeing a life without you. They rushed you into surgery because they though were going to stop breathing."

"He's overly protective because of it. He'll settle down soon."

"Is he? He doesn't spend his time in the shadows anymore."

"No, he's too busy looking at me like a china doll about to smash," she sighed.

"He's too busy trying to not miss any more of those precious moments he almost lost."

Turning her shoulders to aid in turning her neck to look at Nana, she cocked an eyebrow. "You're a hopeless romantic."

"For an FBI whippersnapper, you're dense, Emmie," she retorted without vinegar. "I arrived at the hospital a few minutes after they took you into emergency surgery, still uncertain if you needed it. He was sobbing, absolutely sobbing. They weren't sure if you were going to make it if you needed surgery. Sometimes a brush with death makes a man mend his ways."

She frowned and studied him. For the fifth time in fewer minutes, he looked over again. There was concern in his eyes, but also fear - fear like time was ticking.

"You know what it's like to almost lose him. It puts the fear of God into a body for a while. Let him fret and hover. He would've blamed himself if you'd died. Childbirth isn't without it's risks either, and that's got to be on his mind being only ten weeks away. There are worse things than a fretting husband, Emmie. Go to him."

"Nana? I think you missed your calling as a therapist." She smiled and accepted Pete's help up.

Pete took her arm to escort over to the sandbox. "You seem to always be near if Jason isn't."

"Hm. Coincidence." He kept a stoic face.

"A coincidence that I'm sure he assigned to you."

"You heard the doctor's orders - no strenuous activity or anything that risks a fall that could jostle your throat."

"He didn't say anything about jostling - my doctor didn't," she added when he started to protest. "Jason has his own rules for my care." She glanced from the corner of her eye. "I'll pretend I didn't see that smile."

"What smile?" It immediately disappeared.

Jason set down Henrietta and stood, taking her other arm as she was handed off. "Is everything alright?"

"I just wanted to come over."

"She's throwing sand, so you should sit back here." He guided her back several feet from the sandbox to sit in the grass.

Huh. His speech seemed to be improving the past couple days as his attention focused more on her. "Jay, there's no incision."

"If sand gets in your eyes, it'll make you jerk your neck away. Em, just humor me, please," he sighed.

Relenting, she sat and leaned one hand in the grass to be closer to him. It caused a painful tug in the neck as the swollen tissue was rubbed, so she sat upright.

His hand stroked her arm, as if he'd seen the wince but refrained from fretting. Instead, he leaned his hand in the grass to be closer.

"I'm not going die, Jay." She laced her fingers with his but kept an eye on Henrietta having fun digging like a dog.

"They thought you stopped breathing, Emma," he replied in a quiet, sad tone. "They rushed you away for emergency surgery." He cleared his throat. "If I hadn't been in such a panic that someone was coming to hurt you or the baby in the tunnel..."

"There's only one person I've ever heard you speak to with that much rage. He's escaped prison, hasn't he?"

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "No."

"Then why turn off the lights to fight in the dark? SEALS use that tactic when expecting a lethal fight." She turned her head a bit to look him straight in the eye.

That blue eye shifted away. "He got out once. I'll stop looking over your shoulder when he's dead."

"You can't live in that much fear, to have that much rage."

He shook his head and stared down at the grass. "I called the therapist when you were in the hospital." He audibly swallowed. "It scared me that I reacted without thinking and hurt you."

"What did she say?" Leaning her head against his shoulder, the irritation and claustrophobia from the past week of being coddled melted away now with understanding where he came from in all of this.

"She said if he did get out and come after you, she thinks I'd kill him." It was said in very quiet, very serious tones. And a very real understanding that it frightened him what he was capable of.

"And she told you not to tell me because I'd fear you."

Silence confirmed the suspicion.

"I already knew you'd kill him, Jason."

He stilled.

"The night he attacked at the hotel, I witessed it. I saw how when you threw that punch that knocked him out, you started with the intention that it'd kill him. But, you pulled back mid-strike so it wouldn't. When he attacked in the courtroom, you flew across the room like a wild animal, and then held back until I was in real danger again. In the tunnel, you believed me to be him and intended to crush his throat. But you stopped mid-hit. She's wrong, Jason.

"Any person is capable of killing, but you aren't this soulless beast or lethal assassin. Your training and instincts to protect are there, but so is a heart. When you pulled the trigger for that terrorist who almost shot me, I would put my life on it that you pulled and then hesitated for a fraction of a second before pulling it all the way."

The man looked so ashamed that he hadn't simply shot without hesitation to save her.

"You have reason and heart even in dangerous situations. When there's another way, you take it. You aren't violent by nature, and that is exactly why I don't fear you." Turning a bit to face him, she stroked his cheek and smiled at his surprised expression. "You haven't killed him because you've been able to protect me. If it was the only way, I know you'd kill him - for my sake. And I know that for my sake, you haven't killed him. Whether you realize it or not, you're incapable of letting all emotion consume you into a pointless kill. It's what made you a perfect SEAL, Jason."

"The detachment from emotion is what makes a serial killer."

"If all emotion was void during it, yes. Without reason, you aren't able to kill out of emotion, and without emotion, you aren't able to kill out of reason." She cupped his face. "As ironic as it is, I know I'm the reason that keeps you from killing him - that you don't want me seeing you as some kind of violent monster."

He set a hand over hers, and tears shimmered in his eye. "I was trained to mutilate and gut a man within five seconds. I was trained to do unspeakable things, and I've done them. If he killed you, I know I'd do horrific things to him, things for which you'd hate me. You keep me from turning into a beast, but it's there." His face crumpled. "And that sick animal almost killed you."

"Look at me. You're not a beast, and you didn't almost kill me. If I was larger, you probably wouldn't have done more than bruise my neck. And, I'm not convinced it wasn't the doctor's screw up that put me on the O.R. table. What you did was an accident, not because you lost your temper but because you thought I was him."

"You almost died. I can't lose you," he wept into his hand.

"You're not going to." Climbing into his lap, she held him tight.

Nana herded everyone inside for some privacy, giving a sad look before she disappeared within too.

* * *

Coddling seemed to be how he coped with the guilt, so she kept her mouth shut until bedtime when he checked her breathing again.

"You know, being pregnant is easier than recovering from injury with you."

"Pregnancy doesn't have nearly the same mortality rate as an injured trachea. This is serious, Em. It could easily crush with another injury. You have to be careful. Everything is going well with pregnancy, but pregnancy and a trachea injury complicate each other. I can do obstetrical exams daily, if you wish."

"No!"

A smile tugged at his lips.

She swatted his shoulder. "You were teasing."

"Why were you in the tunnels?"

"Why wasn't I told there were tunnels? And why do you use them to sneak through the house?"

He tugged at his neckcollar. "They're not always safe. It became a habit of using them years ago."

"Mm." She cocked and eyebrow and pushed his hand away from her neck. "Why is there a peephole to my room?"

His eyebrows snapped together this time. "The former owner had it there. Perhaps he was a pervert to his wife, I don't know. I covered it."

"Why is my secret door locked?"

"Because I sleep better knowing no one can sneak into your room or Henrietta's."

"Do the tunnels lead to outside?"

"Yes, but that door requires a key. I'm the only one who uses them, as Ms. Van Hoodie finds them eery and Stevens gets claustrophobic. And no, you may not because you don't know them well enough to use if the lights go out. If you got trapped, you could be lost for days without anyone knowing."

"Are they that big? Do they go to all the rooms?" She smiled in excitement.

"Yes and no! The children can't know about them. If one should fall down the steps - "

"I'm not going to show the children." She rolled her eyes and scooted closer to him on the bed.

"I'm not showing you the passages."

She trailed a finger down his neck. "It's a bit dark and mysterious."

"What is?" He gave a wary look.

"I could swear I feel you watching me sometimes when you're not in the room." She scooted into his lap.

"To know you're safe! I'm not back there being perverted. I check and then leave."

"You could walk through a real door and check on me," she purred.

His pants seemed to grow tight under her bottom. "Sometimes I don't want to talk, sometimes I simply wish to admire my wife for a moment undisturbed in her daily activities."

She traced his bottom lip with a finger.

"It's not as if I do it every minute," he huffed. "I do get work done."

"Should moonlight phantom wish to toss me on the sofa and have his way with me..."

"You're in the last trimester of pregnancy and your throat is in delicate condition."

"My throat has little to do with other things." A smile tugged.

"It does if making love sends you into labor. No physician in his right mind would let you go through labor this fresh after trachea surgery - you'd earn yourself a c-section." He gave a stern look.

"My goodness, you can certainly talk my ear off when you want."

He blinked, as if it dawned that much of the speech impediment disappeared. The slowness remained, but hitches and stutters were practically gone.

"Perhaps a need for using muscles frequently was all that you needed." She pressed a kiss to his jaw.

"I'll thank my argumentative wife for that," he replied dryly.

The laugh turned into a tickle in the throat that resulted in painful coughing and tears.

He returned a minute later with ice. "Ah, my princess, it will get better. Take a nap. I'll feed and bathe the bairn and then come eat with you."

* * *

"Love, you must eat more than soups and mashed potatoes." Jason sat to the right at the dining table a few days later.

"It just hurts to swallow much. The baby won't starve in a week."

"I disagree - you've lost five pounds in a week." Taking the plate of steak that he'd even gone to the lengths of cutting up in tiny pieces, he disappeared into the kitchen. Then he returned with a plate of mashed potatoes and dark brown gravy. "The perks of having a husband who can't swallow much either. I pureed the steak into the gravy." A kiss pressed to her cheek.

"Thank you." Picking up the spoon, she stopped and looked over at him sawing his steak into pieces small enough for a toddler. "I never thought to ask. Does it hurt when you eat?"

He cracked a smile and shook his head. "If pieces aren't large, I'm fine." His hand brushed the burned side of his throat.

She took a bite so he wouldn't grow self-conscious being the only one eating. "Jay? I want you to be honest. I noticed after surgeries that you wanted to be alone or in quiet when you hurt. Do you want solitude since you've been home from rehab also because you hurt?"

The fork stopped half way to his mouth and then lowered. Staring at his plate, he sat silent for a moment. "It takes time to get used to a new normal."

Setting down the spoon, she turned in the chair to look at him and set a hand on his arm. "Yes, but that wasn't the question, honey."

"I just want you to get well." He set a hand over hers.

"No more walls, Jay. You tried to keep your eye surgery a secret and your speech troubles...I just want you to come to me. You have this complex that you're supposed to be some kind of invincible protector. Even Superman has kryptonite. You have physical ailments because you tried to do something noble in a fire. They don't make you less of a man. I wish that you'd believe me."

"You've had a hard past. I just want you to feel protected."

"For crying out loud, Jason, you took a chain beating from a gang for me and kept me from getting shot in the woods with a bunch of FBI assassins. I'm well aware that you can protect me. Just once in a while, hang up the cape." She set a shirt with a giant 'S' in his lap.

"What's this?"

"For those moments when you need to not be Superman but me to still see you as him. Put on the shirt, but cut the act for a few minutes."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Eat and then we'll talk." Again, he touched the side of his throat when he ate.

* * *

"She wanted five stories for her nap," he said and crawled across his bed to where she laid with ice on her neck.

"Because she wants to make up missed daddy time. Put on your shirt."

"Em, that's silly." He laid down beside her.

"Mm. Until you start talking to me or figure out a better way, put on the shirt."

With a sigh, he sat up and pulled off his white dress shirt to replace it with the Superman t-shirt. "It's too small."

It clung to every muscle, just enough that even the veins in his biceps protruded a little. "It's perfect." Biting her lip, she smiled and held out her hand.

That black eyebrow rose, and a smile began to bloom. "I see, you bought it small on purpose."

A giggle answered.

"You're lucky that you're convalescing."

"Why?"

"Because I'd jump on the bed and show you just how much I'm like Superman." Instead, he crawled across the bed and gave a kiss on the lips. "Where are your pain meds?"

"What?"

He climbed off and went into her room. "I recognize a squint from pain." Banging around in her bathroom, he returned with a bottle and a hand on his hip in disapproval. "Why is this practically full? Trudy said she's been giving them to you when I haven't been there."

"Sometimes I put them back. They're not good for the baby."

"They're prescription strength acetaminophen since you refused narcotics. It's not good for the bairn to have high cortisol levels from distress either, and people in pain are more susceptible to illness and prolonged healing. These are very safe for the bairn." He dumped one in her hand and returned with a glass of water.

She took the medicine without a word, trying to not wince as the throat muscles pulled the at the cracked cartilage to swallow.

"No one expects you to tough it out, sweetheart." He laid down beside her and buried his fingers in her hair for a gentle scalp massage.

Closing her eyes, a soft sigh escaped as muscles relaxed, which in turn eased pain. "You're the last one I should complain to about pain."

"No one pain's is worse or more important. You're fresh from surgery, so if we're going to compare, you win. Tell me what makes it feel better."

"It hurts to breathe after eating, which makes no sense."

"That does make sense because your throat muscles tug to swallow, but let me check it again." He sat. "Sit up, sweetheart." Then he gently touched around the swelling. "It seems stable. Does it feel swollen inside?"

"No."

"I'll call the surgeon and make sure that's normal at this stage."

The pain med took the edge off, leaving attention to watch Jason on the phone with another surgeon. That confidence returned as he melted into physician jargon and then asked her a couple questions for the doctor. He looked so at home in the medical field like he missed being on the clinical side at times.

"He said it's uncommon but not concerning." Jason hung up and heaved a sigh, resting a hand on his hip with the phone still in his other hand. He seemed to be contemplating something. "Does it feel better when you're in the shower?" When she nodded, he disappeared in his closet and came out a few minutes later. Once he plugged it in beside the bed, he took the ice. "Let's try heat to open up the vessels to drain the swelling trapped there." He set a warm compress on her neck.

Minutes later, she drew a deep breath as he listened with the stethoscope. "It's sore, but it doesn't hurt." She took his hand as he laid down and spooned, cupping her belly. "I'm not sure that I want to know why you know what makes breathing not hurt."

"Every breath hurt for weeks after the fire. If I get a common cold, it becomes bronchitis or pneumonia and again each breath feels like sandpaper."

Lacing her fingers with his, she have a soft squeeze of comfort. "Before you were deployed, you said you didn't hurt daily. Do you now?"

Several heartbeats passed.

"I get migraines, which the neurosurgeon said is likely the new normal."

Rolling over to face him, she searched his face as he adjusted her compress. "How often?"

"There's no pattern."

It was a walk-around answer. "What triggers them?"

He swallowed hard, as if the answer broke his heart. "Henrietta's laugh - her high-pitched shriek when she's so happy."

Tears welled. It wasn't that he chose to miss out with Henrietta - he had to with such a happy baby that shrieked in delight so often. "Jason." She stroked his cheek. "We'll teach her to express her happiness in other - "

"No." He drew a steadying breath. "No one is going to have to learn to do anything differently because of me."

"Just hear me out. She can laugh or clap or do other things. Otherwise it means missing out on having her father around. A life of her estranged from you until she's older isn't good for either of you. What else causes them?"

"The vacuum cleaner or pots and pans clanging too much. It's certain pitches, other times it comes on at random."

"Trudy vacuums almost every day. She doesn't know, does she? That's why you walk out when she's vacuuming nearby. Oh Jason, you need to tell us these things. When you get a migraine, do you just need to lie down?"

"Emma - "

"No, we're talking about this. Do they get bad enough to make you vomit?"

He gave a slow nod without making eye contact.

"Why do you touch your throat when you eat now? What's wrong with your throat?"

A hand ran down his face and he rolled onto his back, offering his profile. "Emma, enough."

"How is this being equals when you even get to talk to my doctor directly, but I don't get to know medical issues you've been suffering for months?"

Sitting up, he swung his legs over the edge to keep his back to her. Grief drew all the life out of his voice. "Because no one knows why I do things. My speech came back this week, but now esophageal paralysis is setting in. They can't find a clot or brain seizures or anything that's causing it. I can't even get a burn by the goddamn textbook. If I told you every damn time I had something wrong, that's all we'd ever talk about."

"But, Jay - "

He shot up and spun around in a temper. "I want a life outside of a goddamn hospital! I want a wife who will let me have a life where I can feel normal sometimes!" His face blanched the moment the words left his lips.

She sat up and quietly set the compress on the nightstand.

"Emma, I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry. It was in the heat of the moment - "

"Sometimes in the heat of the moment people say what they actually mean." Pushing her bulk up, she turned to face him. "I don't know what to do, Jason. There is no book for this or support group or therapist because you shouldn't even be alive." Tears blurred him. "You never talk to anyone, and I see you so alone all the time. If you don't want me to be your outlet, then don't talk to me. I never understood that it made you resent me. But it's a two-way street. You can go to OB appointments because it's your child too, but my throat and everything else aren't your problem."

"Don't be like that."

A tear fell. "You kept speech problems a secret for weeks and left me thinking you couldn't stomach to be in the same room anymore until I _begged_ you to tell me why last week. This isn't me being like anything except putting my foot down that things are equal. I'm tired of pulling teeth to get you to talk to me when something is wrong. I refuse to have our children grow up thinking Daddy hates them when it's pride holding him back. It's awful all the medical problems that just keep piling on you, but if you refuse to let me help you carry them, I sure as hell don't feel right to add mine on." So much talking caused throat pain, which triggered coughing and more pain.

She walked into her room and closed the connecting door, heading straight for the bathroom.

The door slammed open and heavy footsteps followed. "Dammit, Emma, don't shut the door on me, you need help."

In the bathroom, she leaned over the sink and spit out what was coming up with the agonizing coughs. Speckles of blood.

Jason cursed and ran out to return a moment later to hold her hair back and set a cold rag on the back of her neck. "Yes, I'm calling about my wife. She had a trachea injury a week ago and is coughing up blood..."

The surgeon must've been put on the phone because Jason reached around and applied pressure on the throat just right so it ceased nearly all the coughing. "He wants to hear how you sound." He handed over the phone.

"Hi," she wheezed, completely breathless.

"Is it getting easier to breathe?"

"Yes."

"Was there so much blood you were choking on it?"

"No, I just couldn't stop coughing."

"What's your pain from one to ten?"

"Right now not so great."

"Have you been this hoarse all day?" The questions continued for another minute.

She hung up and set the phone down without making eye contact.

"Do I get to know if he's worried?" Stress wrinkled his brow.

"He said to come for emergency surgery." The tears burst out, and she buried her face in his chest.

"Iss! Iss!"

Jason sat down with Henrietta at the window seat in the house. "Don't climb on Mama's tummy."

"Or maybe she should so he'll come out." She pecked a kiss on Henrietta's cheek and tried to lean foward so Jason could slip in behind on the seat.

"He'll come soon enough. Let's enjoy these last few hours of pregnancy." He squeezed in behind, rubbing away the ache of sporadic contractions. "You look beautiful, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear.

A flush rose. It was pointless to argue that she felt like a beached whale - he showered little moments of muttered sweet nothings or kisses throughout the days. Although it'd been frightening to be in ICU after trachea surgery and need for being extremely careful the weeks after, Jason had used it as a chance to change everything. He had taught Henrietta to cover her mouth during screams of excitement so it didn't trigger headaches, and he had admitted to Trudy and Pete the noises that caused migraines. Then he'd made a rule that each night in bed, they had to share intimate secrets and fears and happiness. Surgery had been a blessing in disguise - he had become the man she'd always seen hidden inside.

The fireworks started. Henrietta jumped at first and scrambled up to climb into Jason's arms for protection.

"It's alright, poppet. Look at the colors." He gasped and pointed.

Henrietta buried her face against his neck and whimpered as another firework exploded. "Boom-boom." She shook her head in objection.

"Maybe from another room without so many windows will be a better sound buffer." She moved her bulk so he could get up with Henrietta.

He slipped out and then offered a hand to help her stand.

"Go on ahead." She held her sore back and straightened.

"Are you certain? The contractions aren't getting worse?"

She shook her head. "The doctor said we have plenty of time before we need to head to the hospital."

"We'll go in the cabin room. I'll give her to your mother and then come back to help."

"Go. I can walk. My back is just sore."

He hurried out.

A contraction hit, growing in intensity that it was impossible to even stand straight. Grabbing the edge of his desk, she doubled over and gasped. It eased several seconds later. Wiping her wet brow, she shuffled a few more steps before another contraction hit, even harder. Clear fluid trickled down her leg under the summer dress.

Jason walked back in as it started to ease off and hurried over to press on the back of her hips, just like they taught during labor classes. "Em, I think we need to get to the hospital."

She shook her head. "Henrietta's never seen fireworks," she panted. "It was just two contractions."

"Strong enough to make you sweat. We're going, Em." He took her hand and set an arm around to help walk to the door.

Another hit, this one even worse.

"Shit, I don't think we're going to make it to the hospital. Becky!" He scooped her up and took the stairs two at a time.

Trudy and Mom ran into the exam room as he set her on the table.

"Boil water and get sheets. I don't think the baby's going to wait for the hospital."

Another contraction hit. When it ended, she opened her eyes to see Jason with bloody gloves and Nana holding her hand.

"Em, you're going to be ready to push after a couple more contractions."

She shook her head. "If something happens, there's no NICU," she panted as Nana brushed her wet hair from her brow.

"JJ will make sure you're both alright."

Mama ran in with Trudy and got everything ready like Jason said.

"Push," she gasped.

He scooped her up and set her over a pile of fresh sheets, then got on his knees to be at eye level. "Gravity will help this way."

It felt like forever and yet so fast.

Jason lifted up the crying baby in a blanket and set the little bundle in her arms. "It's a girl." Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Mama, Trudy and Nana cried and helped sit back while Jason took care of the afterbirth.

"Is she alright?" She sniffled and kissed the tiny forehead while Trudy and Mama began to clean the baby.

"She appears alright. I'll check her in a moment."

"Is the bleeding okay?" Mama looked at him with worry etched on her face that history would repeat itself.

He nodded. "The placenta is out, and Emma seems to be doing just fine. I'm just going to massage to make sure contractions help slow the bleeding." His hand gently rubbed her belly.

She looked at him. "We never decided on a name."

A beautiful smile lit up his face. "Rose."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise at a name that he'd never mentioned before. She smiled. "Rose Margaret."

His throat convulsed in a hard swallow. He'd never mentioned using his mother's name, but it was a secret surprise she'd waited to tell him. "Rose Margaret," he replied in a thick voice and nodded.

* * *

"I'm not sure why Ms. Williamson said we had to come," Jason said in the elevator at the Foundation two months later.

She smiled at the surprise. It'd taken a year of tracking with Jack, but all that work had finally paid off. Jason would be so surprised. "She needs you for a meeting."

"I could've phoned in. Rose is so young to be towing in public yet." He shifted Henrietta to his other arm and looked down at the baby in her arms.

"We're not taking her through the sick wards, and you have a private jet. She's nursing to get my antibodies too. My goodness, you're going to be a wreck when boys start coming around."

"It's why I kept my SEAL guns, love." He smiled and wrapped an arm around for a quick kiss on the lips.

A blush rose. Physical restrictions from childbirth had been lifted two weeks ago, and he'd taken it upon himself to make up for lost time. He didn't even seem to mind the baby tummy one bit.

The doors opened and he came to life showing off his daughters to the executive office, where everyone cooed and fussed over the girls.

Ms. Williamson slipped over. "She's in the burn unit," she whispered while Jason was distracted. "Room fifteen. The parents are anxious."

She nodded. "Do you think this is a bad idea?"

The young woman had become a dear friend who knew of Jason's true past, although he didn't know it yet. She'd been instrumental in helping arrange everything. "I think he needs it."

Her stomach twisted in knots on the elevator ride down. Instead of going to the front doors, she turned and tugged his hand to go toward the burn unit.

"Em, where are we going?"

"There's a girl here in the burn unit." Her throat closed off any more words. This could go very, very bad. Or change his life.

"Alright." He sounded confused but followed.

At the entrance of Room fifteen, she took Henrietta from him. "Go inside."

With a frown of confusion, he knocked and stepped through. And went sheet white when he spotted the parents, spinning on his heel, he almost plowed her down to get out.

"Dr. O'Malley?" Charlotte's mother called.

He froze, his chest heaving and tears welling in his eyes.

"Jay, they knew we were coming. It's alright."

The dear man looked so terrified, and ghosts that had haunted him for so long filled his eyes. Betrayal fell with each tear, as if he didn't understand why she'd brought him here for torment.

A small hand slipped into his, and he startled as if the Devil had touched him. When he looked down, his eye widened in shock and he sank to his knees.

A little girl of seven years stood there with brown hair and the biggest blue eyes. "Did you bring me stickers?" She lifted up her little arm to reveal an old burn that went from her wrist to elbow.

He stared, unmoving, unbreathing. And then he reached out and touched her fingers.

Her little laugh filled the air. "Do you think I'm a ghost?"

"You're alive," he breathed. All the sudden, he crushed Charlotte in his arms and sobbed.

The parents came over, in tears themselves. "She was found as a Jane Doe at a hospital. Then we heard that you'd died, so we couldn't tell you." The mother broke down in tears. "We couldn't tell you how sorry we were for what we said to you, and thank you for saving our baby."

He stood with Charlotte in his arms, still unable to speak from weeping so hard.

She stepped up beside him and set a hand on his arm. "They know everything, Jay. I was afraid if I told you why we were coming, you'd be afraid or upset."

He shook his head and looked at Charlotte. "Why are you here? Are you alright?"

"She needs her arm checked as she grows, sometimes needing pig skin grafts. But that's the only injury she had. Your wife found us and said you run a hospital that has the best doctors."

Jason looked at her in surprise. "How?"

"Jack and I have been doing a lot of searching the past year. Being a minor, her records were sealed..." He didn't need to hear an elaboration to know that she and Jack might've used some computer knowledge to their advantage.

He pressed a kiss to her lips.

Charlotte frowned at him. "Did you get hurt bad trying to rescue me?" Before anyone could respond, Charlotte pulled off his mask.

Jason set her down in the blink of an eye and tried to escape from view.

But, Charlotte held his hand tight.

The mother and father sniffled before the mother stepped closer and set a hand on his arm. "God bless you. Charlotte always talks about the angel who saved her from the fire." Then the husband caught his hand, his chin quivering too hard to speak.

Charlotte tugged until he knelt.

Jason leaned back like he feared terrifying Charlotte. He visibly braced for rejection that he'd known these past few years.

Her little hand rested on his warped cheek.

His lip quivered and voice grew thick, the words coming out in a whisper. "Most say I look like a monster." So much tension quivered in his muscles. Fear from Charlotte would be more than he'd be able to handle.

A frown touched her lips. "I feel bad for them." Then she smiled, without fear or revulsion and pressed a kiss to his warped cheek. "They don't know what an angel looks like."

THE END

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thank you to all my readers, especially those who challenged me to become a better writer. I hope you enjoyed the Jason & Emma series as much as I did, maybe even falling a little in love with Jason.**


End file.
